Harry Potter and the Ferratilis Potion
by Arualcopia
Summary: Rescued from Privet Drive by Severus Snape, Harry deages himself during a rash plan, retaining his 16 yr old mind. Can Harry trust the only one who seems to understand him now and who is brewing the potion he needs to recover? AU 6th year. No slash.
1. Happy Birthday Harry

Chapter 1

Happy Birthday Harry

Harry sat at home attempting to write an essay on the three uses of the Bluegee Root, but all he could do was stare at his calendar, with the days marked off by a thick red marker. In three days, he would be sixteen, and soon after he could go back to Hogwarts. He'd promised McGonagall that he'd stay put for the summer, not go back to the Department of Mysteries.

But once he got back to Hogwarts, he was going to research more about the veil and find a way to get Sirius back. After the conversation with Luna, he couldn't get the thought out of his head—_the voices, behind the veil; there must be a way to see him, to talk to Sirius_. A part of Harry knew better; he knew that he shouldn't dwell on impossible dreams. _But what if it was possible?_ All he wanted to do was apologize. "_I'm sorry; I'm sorry Sirius_." Desperately Harry wanted to take it all back. If only he'd listened!

Letters poured in from his friends, more so than any summer in the past. Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, even Luna and other members of the DA, would send letters. They all seemed overly cheerful, with the exception of Luna's, and asked lots of questions. Perhaps they were all checking up on him, making sure he was staying safe and not doing anything stupid.

Sure enough, every three days a letter would arrive from someone in the Order. Usually it was a letter from the Weasleys, but occasionally Lupin or Moody would write. They always requested a reply, making sure that the Dursleys were treating Harry well.

At the beginning of the summer, the Dursleys all tip-toed around Harry. After all, Mad Eye Moody's threats were fairly frightening. So for the most part, the Dursley's just ignored Harry, which was just fine as far as Harry was concerned. They never acknowledged his presence. He could do, say, or take whatever he wanted and none of them would complain. Even Dudley had given up on bullying him.

But as time went on, Vernon got a bit more daring, adding in insults here and there. Annoying as it was, Harry ignored most of it. He wanted to get through the summer as quickly as he could and with as little trouble as possible. Only a tad longer than a month remained and then he could go home to Hogwarts. But little did Harry know that today everything would change.

xxxxx

Aunt Petunia was holding her monthly Tea and Read party. All the neighborhood women would come to drink tea and discuss some random book. Harry had yet to see any of them actually read a book. Most likely, the women used the time to all sit around and share gossip.

Harry came down to the kitchen for breakfast. Entering the room, he heard a gasp. Immediately Harry looked behind himself, expecting to see some hideous monster or something incredible. But everything was normal. Slowly Harry realized, _they're gasping at me_. Forgetting breakfast, he hurried out of the room.

As the door swung closed behind him, Harry heard all the women talking at once, "Is that him Petunia. How do you do it Petunia? Doesn't he scare you, Petunia?" and on and on they went. Without thinking, Harry left the house and Privet Drive completely. He had to get away.

He spent most of the day plotting ways to rescue Sirius, but each plan seemed lousier than the first. _I have to find a way to save him, I must_, Harry thought, _it's my fault that he died. Died?! But he can't be dead. What kind of death is that?_ Harry hadn't noticed how cold he was getting, until a startling shiver ran down his spine. The sun was setting; he needed to return to the Dursley's.

Nearing Number Four, Privet Drive, Harry could hear Dudley yelling to his dad, "Hold the door shut, Daddy, don't let it out. It wants to kill me!"

Instinctively, Harry ran over to help. Once in sight of the house, Harry saw Vernon holding the door shut by leaning his whole, plump body back. Standing a few feet back, Petunia had her arms wrapped most of the way around Dudley's massive body. She looked as though she was humming in an attempt to calm the boy down. Dudley's face was pale; he looked at the door as if it were about to kill him.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, reaching his hand down towards the pocket that held his wand. He knew he wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school, but he wasn't about to be caught defenseless.

"You!" Vernon yelled at Harry, but didn't move away from the door, "You let this thing lose, to kill Dudley."

"What?" Harry was thoroughly confused; "I didn't let anything… what are you talking about?"

"I… I," Dudley blurted, "I was just walking by your door. And it came out… it was trying to get me, to eat my feet! It wants to kill me!" A loud thud came from something as it banged against the door. Dudley visibly jumped and nearly knocked Petunia to the ground.

"You better put this right, boy. I will not be driven out of my house," Vernon said. Even though Vernon didn't remove a hand from the doorknob, Harry could visualize the man shaking his chubby index finger in his face.

"Look, Uncle Vernon," Harry said in the calmest voice he could manage. "I could be more helpful if I knew what you were talking about."

"You'll fix this," Vernon threatened. Turning towards Petunia and Dudley, he continued in a sweet comforting voice, "You two best wait further back, in the yard perhaps." Dudley and Petunia tried to move away as quickly as possible. Dudley lost his footing when they attempted turn around. And, by clinging tightly to his mother, Dudley managed to pull Petunia down on top of himself.

Harry snickered at the sight of Petunia trying to pull the mammoth boy back up to his feet, but stopped when Vernon began to speak again, "Harry, I'm going to open the door." Vernon had an overly calm voice and an insane look on his face. "And you do… you fix… well do whatever you do…"

"You want me to do magic?" Harry asked innocently.

Uncle Vernon's face turned red; he looked ready to pummel Harry. But the door behind him banged loudly again. And Vernon's face changed. He looked almost gleeful. One hand on the door, Vernon was actually smiling sadistically now. Then, he jerked the door open swiftly. Harry had his wand in hand—ready for attack. But he didn't see anything. He glanced over to where Vernon had been standing. He wanted to ask him what to look for, but Vernon was halfway across the yard hiding behind a shrub. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw something move. Examining it closer, Harry couldn't help but laugh. _The Monster Book of Monsters_ was scurrying towards him.

"It's just a book," Harry managed to say, after gasping for air. He hadn't laughed so hard in a long time. The others didn't seem convinced. Vernon was still huddled behind the shrub, and Petunia and Dudley were out in the street hugging each other. Remembering the book just in time, Harry jumped up and landed on it. The book let out a muffled scowl. He looked around for something to tie the book up with, but couldn't find anything. So he bent down and stroked the spine. When he felt the book relax, Harry stepped off and scooped it up to hold it in his hands. It began to purr and flopped open, ready to be read.

"See," Harry said, about to walk over and show Vernon. But the man backed further away.

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry walked inside. He almost dropped the book once he saw the condition of the house, apparently the book made its appearance when all the women were still here. Broken and spilled teacups filled the room, two lamps were broken, and half-eaten shoe bits were scattered around the room. _Well at least the ladies will have an interesting book to discuss in the future, _Harry chuckled to himself. Back in his room, Harry secured the book with his belt; it had been left flung on the floor. _Dudley_! Harry decided. _He must have been snooping through my things again. Serves him right!_

With the book safely in his trunk, he went back to find his uncle. Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley were all huddled just outside the front door, their wide eyes darting around searching for any sight of danger.

"Where is that- that thing," Vernon sputtered.

"My book is back where it belongs," Harry said calmly. "Where it would have been all along if someone hadn't been poking around my personal belongings. I should think-"

But Harry was cut off, "You, boy," Vernon spat, waving his finger a millimeter from Harry's nose, "you will be cleaning this place up. Back to normal. And no- no… none of that funny business."

The glare from Vernon let Harry know he was getting off easy. Not wanting to bother with a long, drawn-out fight, Harry submitted and began picking up the mess. Vernon stomped upstairs, Petunia and Dudley following closely behind him. It took a long time, and Harry was starting to get very hungry. He hadn't had a thing to eat all day. With two of the lamps broken, the room was very dark. Therefore, it was hard to see all of the crumbs. Finally, when he was fairly certain the room was clean, he went to look for his uncle. He found the man coming down the stairs, dragging his trunk behind him.

"I'll have no more of this nonsense," Vernon yelled! Harry began to protest, but Vernon yelled over him, "You and all your abnormalities will go into the cupboard and stay there."

Harry was about to argue, but then he caught sight of Petunia and Dudley carrying down Hedwig's cage. They held the cage at a very awkward angle, trying to stay as far away from it as possible.

"You be careful with Hedwig," Harry yelled charging up the stairs towards them.

But Vernon caught Harry by the hair and pulled him back down to the ground floor. "Boy, get into that cupboard," yelled Vernon as he pulled Harry towards the small door.

Twisting, Harry managed to push Vernon away. Bits of his hair hung from his uncles clenched fist, "I'm not-" Harry began to argue.

He stopped abruptly when Vernon pulled out Harry's wand. Harry's hand automatically jerked towards his trouser pocket. _But, my wand_, he thought frantically. _How did he get my wand? I_… _I left it on the bed, when I put the book away. How could I be so stupid?_

"You give that back," Harry said. He tried to sound forceful, but it came out a bit desperate—a detail that Vernon had not overlooked.

Smiling joyfully, Vernon continued, "Get in the cupboard or I will break your little stick."

"You wou-"

"One," Vernon's face was absolutely cheerful, chipper even.

Harry stepped forward, _maybe I can pull it out of his hands._

"Two," Vernon began to bend the wand gently—just a bit more pressure and his wand would snap.

"Okay, okay, okay," Harry yelled, waving his hands. He probably looked really foolish, but Harry didn't care. Vernon couldn't break his wand—only two wands shared that same phoenix feather. That fact had saved his life before.

Harry hesitated momentarily, but complied when Vernon nodded towards the cupboard. He found it hard fitting into the tiny space; he was much bigger now than before and his big trunk was in the way. Sitting all scrunched up, Harry looked up at his uncle's smiling face. "If you break my wand, I'll kill you," Harry said plainly.

If the comment had any affect on Vernon, it didn't show. Hedwig's cage was shoved onto his lap and the door was slammed shut.

"You'll stay in there till the summer's over. Then you can have your bloody stick back. But you'd better behave. I don't want to hear another sound out of you or that bird again." Harry heard the thunderous footsteps as Vernon stomped away.

xxxxx

The night passed and Harry didn't hear another word from any of them. The next morning as the Dursleys walked past his cupboard, Harry yelled, "Once I leave here, I'm never coming back."

But that was perfectly fine with them. Vernon was wandering around the house in a sort of bliss, contemplating ways to erase all evidence of Harry from their lives. They had plans to move to a perfectly normal house, in a perfectly normal neighborhood, so they could begin their perfectly normal lives once again. No one would know of Harry or his abnormalities.

And so the day continued to creep by. Another night came and went, and the Dursley's never acknowledged his presence. He attempted to work on his schoolwork, which was hard with Hedwig on his stomach and his feet all cramped up. There simply wasn't enough room to even be somewhat comfortable. And his stomach was growling madly now. He hadn't had any food in a while.

Harry threw down his quill! What was the point of completing his summer course work? Darkness was filling the cupboard—a sign that another night had come. As he looked up at the ceiling, he listened intensely for any hint of movement in the house. He thought about all the sleepless nights that he had experienced because he was thinking about Sirius, and now sleep seemed even more impossible in this tight space.

But he was just so tired, and without noticing it, Harry's body slipped into slumber and his mind drifted off into a dream. Oddly enough, he found himself standing alongside Hermione at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. She held in her hand the most hideous purple and yellow poke-a-dotted bow tie. She was trying to purchase it using muggle money. Harry tried to explain to her that he didn't need the tie, that he didn't even like purple. But Hermione couldn't hear him; it was like he wasn't even there.

She began to cry, "I don't understand. What do you mean _muggle_? Money is money, I must have this, I need to get it for-" But then Hermione's face flushed, and her eyes darted around the room. Suddenly, Hermione tossed the tie into the air and ran to the door. She ran straight into a man who wrapped his arm around her, like a father comforting a scared child. Harry realized he recognized the man—Voldermort smiled back at him.

Harry awoke, his scream piercing the silent night. Before Harry became cognizant that he was still crammed into that tiny cupboard, he heard a loud bang somewhere in the back yard. He could hear windows shattering all along the back side of the house. Harry used his arms to cover his head; he thought everything above him would collapse. The temperature around him was rising fast_. I'm gonna burn alive, stuck in this damn cupboard, _ he thought.

For a moment, Harry almost lost consciousness, but then just as quickly as the blast came, it disappeared. Silence and calm filled the air like nothing had happened at all. Harry expected to hear the sounds of panicked Durley's bumbling down the hall, but all he heard were snores.

A creepy feeling swept over Harry—the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. His throat became dry. He was afraid to open his eyes, afraid that perhaps he was imagining everything. A_m I going crazy? Perhaps I am still dreaming, yes that's it… _

But then Harry heard a sound; the front doorknob was being fumbled with. Slowly it crept open; Harry was breathing quickly now. He held a hand over his mouth. _I wish I had my wand, why did I leave my wand? _Tears welled up in his eyes; he was so scared, he thought he might cry. Footsteps swept quickly and quietly across the room and he heard them climb up the stairs. _There's two of them_, he thought, _one of whom is fairly big. Are you robbers? Please let it be just average muggle robbers_. But the footsteps walked directly to his room, as if looking for him. _What do I do? How do I protect myself?_

Harry tried to position himself so that he could fight, should it come to that. His body didn't seem to want to respond like normal. He was so tired and cramped. Hedwig, sensing his tension, looked at Harry as if to say, "Open my cage, I'll attack whoever wants to hurt you."

_No, Hedwig. I don't want you to get hurt either._ Harry was ready, or somewhat ready. _If I have to, I can leap out, hopefully catching them off balance. And then I can run away, and hide till morning. _But the plan seemed feeble at best, and he wasn't even sure he could get his legs to work.

Above, the footsteps circled the room. _They sound a bit frustrated, angry…if footsteps can sound like that. Oh, I'm just going mad, plan mad. If only I hadn't left my wand!_ The footsteps began to walk out of the room—quickly, determined. _They know where they're going; they're coming for me._

The figures stopped, right in front of Harry's cupboard. They quietly began to open the lock. _They still think I'm asleep, good, I can catch them off guard_. This gave Harry a bit of confidence, just a tiny bit.

The door started to open slowly, but Harry didn't wait. He lunged forward with all the strength he could muster. Little good it did, the man barely even flinched. Harry, meanwhile, toppled limply to the ground. Not willing to give up, Harry tried to crawl away, then tried to struggle to his feet. But his legs just wouldn't move properly!

The bigger man stooped down and scooped Harry up like he was a rag doll, and then placed a hand over Harry's mouth so he couldn't scream out for help. Harry flailed his arms around wildly, and kicked the other man with his feet.

"Lumos," whispered the smaller man, so quietly it was almost silent.

The larger man now held Harry's wrists; his grip so tight Harry that could barely move. As his eyes adjusted to the light, Harry could make out one man's face. _Snape_, Harry thought to himself with a gasp. _Why are you, Dumbledore trusted you, you're supposed to be a spy. Why, I knew you were…_ Tears welled up in Harry's eyes; he was nearing a complete panic attack.

Snape saw the boy's face and lifted his wand near to Harry's brow. Harry squeezed his eye's shut, expecting some painful curse. But when it didn't come, Harry opened an eye. Glancing upward he saw his captor's face. Instantly, his whole body relaxed. _Hagrid!_

He felt like turning around and hugging the man, but then questions raced through his mind. _What are you doing here, why are you holding me like this, what was that loud blast…_

Hagrid's caring face looked back at him, his eyes full of determination. Releasing Harry's wrists, he brought his hand up his mouth and held his index finger across his mouth. _You want me to keep quiet_? Harry nodded that he understood. Hagrid released Harry from his firm grip and waved his hands, motioning Harry to follow.

_My wand, what about my wand_, Harry thought. And so he quietly whispered, "Um, Hag-"

But before Harry could continue, Snape had his hand covering Harry's mouth. His force was so strong that Harry fell backwards. Before he could fall to the ground, Snape caught him and righted the boy. Again Hagrid put his finger to his mouth; he looked more scared than he had before. Harry didn't want to leave without his wand. He darted his eyes around, looking for a way to communicate without words. He pointed towards Snape's wand, then at his own body, and then back at the wand. _My Wand_, he desperately thought.

Reading Harry's thoughts, Snape pulled out Harry's wand from his pocket and held it towards the boy. Harry reached out quickly to snatch it away. But before Snape let go of the wand, he made his grip on Harry's mouth a bit tighter. _Okay, no talking_, Harry nodded. Snape let go of Harry and Harry's wand, and pointed in Hagrid's direction.

Harry was about to obey, but then thought, _What about Hedwig? She's being so quiet; it's like she knows…_ Harry pointed towards his cupboard and opened his mouth to talk. Snape looked livid, ready to pounce. But no sound came out of Harry; he just mouthed the word "Hedwig."

Looking relieved, Snape nodded understanding and motioned for Hagrid to gather Harry's things. Silently, Hagrid scooped up Harry's trunk with one arm and gracefully grasped Hedwig's cage with the other hand. It was amazing how he hadn't made even the slightest sound.

Harry didn't have much time to contemplate this, though. Snape took hold of Harry's arm and was more forcefully urging him out the door. Harry tried to walk, but his legs felt like jelly. After a few steps, he flopped to the floor. Snape looked down at him, clearly annoyed. Harry looked back up, apologetically. _I'm sorry,_ he thought, and struggled back to his feet. A few steps later, Harry fell back to the floor. This time, Snape pulled Harry up to his feet. He turned to look at Hagrid, as if trying to pass the boy off. Hagrid obviously had a lot to carry already, so begrudgingly Snape lifted Harry up and slung him over his shoulder. Harry attempted to break free. _I can walk by myself_. But the strong arms wouldn't let him go. Blushing, Harry gave up. He didn't want Snape to carry him, but there wasn't much he could do to get away.

Once outside the door, Harry saw three brooms. Snape extinguished his wand, but Harry didn't hear the spell. Snape deposited Harry on one of the brooms and then got onto his own.

Meanwhile, Hagrid freed Hedwig and positioned the trunk on the other broom in such a way that he could fly without letting the trunk go. _Strange, why don't you use magic to levitate it behind you?_ Harry thought, _but everything is just so weird, what's going on_?

Hedwig circled above, waiting for Harry and the others to come. As the brooms lifted from the ground, Harry could see Privet Drive below him. The glow from the full moon was the only light visible, but it was enough to make out the havoc below. Off in the distance, cloaked figures rushed towards the Dursley house—they scurried like a pack of ravenous dogs. Weaving around the many houses, these figures appeared to be searching for something.

Harry nearly screamed, or even thought he did, but he heard no sound leave his lips. Sensing him, all the figures froze and stared up towards him. He couldn't see their faces, but Harry knew they were looking at him. He felt their glare pierce through him and a sharp pain stabbed at his scar. The world was beginning to blur, a strange tingling spreading up from his feet and hands to the very core of his body. He felt his body slipping off of his broom, but someone caught him before he fell. _How odd_, he thought, as he slipped out of consciousness.

xxxxx

When Harry woke, his first thought was, _what an odd nightmare_. But then he realized he was not waking at the Dursley's—the bed was soft, _too soft_. He jerked back into consciousness. _It wasn't a dream, where am I?_ He reached for his pocket, but his wand wasn't there. _Vernon__, Vernon has my wand. But Snape gave it back. Snape, where's Snape_? The room was dark, so he couldn't see anything. He climbed out of bed. His legs were still very wobbly. Someone had removed his shoes and his glasses were gone. He reached around blindly, feeling for a nightstand, but couldn't find one. Looking around the room, Harry saw yellow light vaguely hinting at a doorway. He tried to walk to it, but couldn't. Falling to the floor, he submitted to just crawling. Before he could reach the door, it swung open. Harry closed his eyes tight; the light was just so bright.

"Good, you're awake," said Snape's voice dryly, then muttering a spell to illuminate the room. And then he added, "Eat, Potter." Harry's eyes slowly adjusted to the light. Snape was carrying some sort of tray and hovered it above the bed. Leaving the tray, he came back to Harry, who was still on hands and knees. Harry tried to protest, but Snape pulled him by the arm back to bed. Without complaint Harry climbed onto the bed and sat down. Meanwhile Snape stood there, staring at Harry, as if unsure what to do next. "Eat," he commanded.

Harry flinched, automatically preparing to shove food into his face, but then opened his mouth to ask a question. Unsure if he should speak, he closed his mouth again. Perhaps with the light, he could find his glasses on his own.

"Speak Potter," Snape said, in a more casual tone of voice. "What do you need?"

"My glasses," murmured Harry, "I, I can't see well without my glasses."

"_Accio_ Potter's glasses," ordered Snape. Harry could hear the glasses leave the bedside table, and land in Snapes hand.

"And my wand, where's my wand?" Harry said as Snape gave him his glasses.

"It's on the night stand." After putting on his glasses, Harry scrambled across the bed. Once his hands wrapped around his wand, he felt much more at ease. Harry openly sighed in relief, but Snape said nothing, just watched him closely. Then he spoke, "Now eat. When was the last time you ate?"

"That depends, what day is it?" Harry asked, finally able to look around the room. They were at Grimmauld Place; he was in Sirius' room. Harry's heart sank as feelings of guilt flooded back to him.

"July 31st," replied Snape.

"Then three days, I think," Harry replied casually. Picking up his fork, he started to consume his meal.

"Why in Merlin's name would you go without meals for three days?" Snape spat, as if accusing Harry of starving himself.

"Well, if you didn't notice, I was in a tight spot," Harry replied sarcastically. "I didn't have much time to run down to the market as it were."

"Fine, eat your meal. Later on, we have much to discuss," Snape said, and left the room. It was only after Snape left that Harry realized, _perhaps Snape wasn't accusing me at all_, _maybe Snape was angry that I had been deprived of food for so long? _ _Oh, but that's stupid, Snape's probably happy to find someone that hates me just as much as he does._

After finishing his meal, Harry lay back, he was so tired. At least he could stretch out completely; he could feel the nutrients beginning to move throughout his body. Aches and cramps that he hadn't realized he even had were beginning to relax. _I wonder if Snape slipped some sort of potion into my food_.

Whatever the reason, he was feeling much better and decided to go and find Snape. First, he put his wand back into his pocket and then, finding his shoes, he slipped them on. He was still a bit wobbly on his feet, but managed to walk out the door. Harry went down the stairs to the kitchen where the Order used to meet. Standing at the doorway, Harry saw Snape sitting at the table, bent over a pile of paperwork. Unsure about entering the room, Harry just stood there.

"Come in and sit down, Potter," ordered Snape without looking up from his work. Harry obeyed and sat down at the table; he didn't know what to do next. "Potter, if you haven't realized, it is now okay for you to speak. You're out of danger."

Blushing, Harry asked, "Um, about that. Why wasn't I allowed to speak?"

"The werewolves would have heard you," Snape calmly replied, as if it were common knowledge.

_But of course, the werewolves, _Harry thought to sarcastically respond. But, instead, he said, "Sir, what werewolves?"

Clearly annoyed, Snape replied, "Surely you saw the werewolves. You've seen a werewolf before."

"So those cloaked things," he asked, "those were werewolves?"

"Yes."

"Um, why were they after me?"

"The Dark Lord sent them."

"But how did he do that?"

"A potion."

"But how would a potion send werewolves after me?"

Snape, speaking slowly, as if talking to a five-year-old, said, "The potion was to control the werewolves. The Dark Lord gave them a command to find you. And so they did."

Harry was getting angry, "Look sir, obviously I don't know what's going on. How could I? Why don't you just explain it all to me, instead making me fish it out of you with twenty question?"

"Oh Potter, you exaggerate. You haven't asked twenty questions," Snape calmly replied.

"Fine," Harry said, starting to get up from the table.

"Sit, Potter," Snape commanded. "I'll explain everything." Snape got up and cleared the paper work from the table. Then he sat back down with two glasses of water. "You remember Lupin's assignment to work with the werewolves?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, just this morning, Dumbledore received an alarming message. All it said was, "wolves sent to find Harry." And it was signed "L". Dumbledore sent Hagrid out to see if he could find any sign of werewolf movement. What he found was surprising. Out, no more than two miles in every direction, werewolves were converging on your location."

"But the wards," interrupted Harry. "Shouldn't they protect me from harm?"

"Werewolves are different. It involves ancient magic, much of which we can't understand. We had no idea if the wards would hold or not. When Hagrid sent a message about the situation, Dumbledore was out. He said he was going to attempt to find Lupin at one of his safe houses. I had no way of getting word to him about the situation. I waited for as long as I could; at first, the werewolves were progressing very slowly. But then something happened—an explosion of some sort. It marked your house so that the werewolves knew where to go. And suddenly, they were moving much faster; there was no time, so I took the floo to Mrs. Figg's and joined Hagrid."

"You came to save me," Harry mumbled in surprise.

Snape ignored him and continued, "We had to be as quiet as possible in your house. Any sort of noise or commotion would have drawn the werewolves' attention."

"But I thought the house was marked already."

"True, but werewolves are mostly beast. They're attracted mainly to motion, sound, and smell."

Harry opened his mouth to ask a question, but he wanted Snape to continue, so he didn't say a thing.

Snape hadn't noticed and spoke on, "When we got to your room, you were gone, and we saw your wand discarded on the bed."

Harry thought he heard Snape's voice waver, _was he worried about me? _

"But then, Hagrid motioned to look downstairs. So I followed him. What were you doing down in that cupboard anyway?"

At first, Harry was angry. _How dare he ask that?_ But then Snape didn't look like he was trying to be mean, or to poke fun. Suddenly, Harry blushed and looked away. He didn't want to answer. But Snape didn't say a word; he just waited for a response.

"I.. um, my…" Harry didn't know where to start, but Snape remained silent. " Dudley let my book loose and it messed up the house," Harry blurted, and looked up to Snape for some sort of reaction.

Snape just looked confused, "Your book? I don't understand. Did you have some sort of Dark Magic book?"

"No, I..."

"Why are you afraid to tell me?"

"I'm not afraid," Harry defended himself. But Snape didn't look antagonistic, so Harry continued. "I'm embarrassed." Harry paused. Snape was the last person he wanted to be explaining things to. "I was out for a walk. And Dudley must have been going through my things. He undid the belt around my Monster Book of Monsters…. I knew I should have thrown out that book. I'm not in Care of Magical creatures anymore. It's just that Hagrid gave it to me. For my birthday." Harry realized he was rambling, "Where is Hagrid anyway?"

"He returned to the castle, to wait for Dumbledore's return."

Harry waited for something more, but realized he ought to get back to the subject. "Well, the book got loose in the house. When I got back from my walk, it had the Dursley's all outside on the front porch. Uncle Vernon was holding the door shut, so it couldn't get out and hurt Dudley." For a moment Harry was sure he heard Snape snicker, but when he looked up, Snape's face was stoic. "Well. Vernon opened the door, and I got the book under control. Then I put it back in my trunk. And then I went downstairs to clean up the mess. I hadn't realized at the time, but I'd forgotten my wand upstairs on my bed." Harry flushed an even darker color. "I was so stupid! How could I have forgotten my wand?"

Harry expected him to reply, "That's not such a shock, Potter; you've done stupider things before," but Snape said nothing of the sort. Instead, Snape said, "I still don't understand why you were in the cupboard."

"By the time I had finished cleaning up, Uncle Vernon had stuck all my stuff in my trunk. He shoved it in the cupboard. And he said if I didn't get in the cupboard, he'd break my wand."

Snape snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry shouted, feeling defensive.

"You realized that you are the target of the Dark Lord?"

"Yes," Harry muttered. He didn't think he liked where this was going.

"And you know, that at any moment someone might come along to try and attack you?"

"Yes, but—"

"I cannot imagine any reason for you to be without your wand," Snape lectured. "It is a rather stupid mistake. Do you want to die? Would you like the Dark Lord to torture you?"

Harry kept his eyes down, he didn't want to respond.

After a long, awkward silence, Snape continued, "And you've been there for the past three days, I assume." Snape was looming over him; it made him feel very uncomfortable.

"Yes, sir," Harry sheepishly replied.

Neither of them spoke again for a few minutes. Harry didn't know what to say, and he assumed Snape didn't either.

"Well," Snape said, breaking the silence, "Happy Birthday." The way Snape said the phrase; it sounded more like a reprimand. Harry had to think hard, to actually realize what the man said.

"You knew today was my birthday?" Harry asked, both confused and annoyed with the man for bringing it up.

"Famous Harry Potter, but of course I know your birthday," Snape spat. "You had a good number of owls waiting to be paid in your room. It took several knuts to get rid of them."

"I'll pay you back later," Harry snapped. If he had a cake, he'd blow out all the candles wishing that Snape would just disappear.

"I'll be back down later, I expect you to be in bed by then. I assume you can manage on your own?"

"Yes!" Harry said, grinding his teeth.

Harry stared at the stairs for a while, making sure Snape was actually gone. He couldn't believe that Snape had found him in his cupboard… he'd never live that down. It wasn't until some time had passed that Harry noticed the chocolate cupcake in front of him. _How did that get there, _Harry wondered. _Did Snape? No, it couldn't be. Well, obviously Snape gave it to me, but Hagrid must have asked him to._

Author's Note:

So this is my first fanfic ever. Please leave some reviews; they'd be much appreciated. After reading AYLNO I have been inspired to write. (Especially since AYLNO is complete, I'm sure to go through some withdrawal…) I'll try my best to keep my story in-character and free of any Mary Sues. Oh, and I should be updating frequently. My friend Nefla, pesters me daily to write.

I've gone through this again, briefly... trying to fix errors and oocness. I know Snape's off, he gets better I think. If you have any suggestions for further improvement, let me know.


	2. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place

Chapter 2

Number Twelve Grimmauld Place

xxxxx

The next morning when Harry woke up, he didn't feel much better than he had the night before. At least his legs no longer felt all cramped up; it was nice to be able to stretch out in a big soft bed. Harry was still very tired, but it was hard to sleep, especially knowing he was lying in Sirius' bed. _Sirius_, Harry thought as his stomach twisted. Feelings of guilt, sorrow, and pain built up in his chest. _I will find away, I must find a way to tell him I'm sorry._

Getting out of bed Harry quickly threw on his robe. He didn't bother dressing, nor did he comb his hair. It didn't seem to matter anymore; Snape had seen him at his worst. Groaning, Harry thought about Snape. _He's seen so much. Me in the cupboard, weak and defenseless, and then, later, crawling all over the floor like some sort of baby._

Slipping on his shoes, Harry left the room. Once on the ground floor, Harry heard more voices than he expected to. He started to descend the stars to the basement, but stopped just out of view.

"It was a good thing you weren't seen, Severus, charging in there to save Harry yourself," lectured McGonagall. Snape made some sort of response, but Harry couldn't make it out.

Instead, someone else was talking loudly, "In the cupboard! He was in the cupboard?" Harry recognized the voice—it was Mad-Eye Moody. Anger welled up inside of him. _How dare he not respect my privacy. **I** never told anyone about what I saw my dad do in that pensieve._ "I think I need to go have a little _chat_ with that worthless excuse for an uncle."

"Now, Alastor." Harry could visualize Dumbledore's twinkling eyes as he heard the man speak, " This is no time for vengeance—Harry is safe now. That's all that matters."

_All that matters?_ Harry thought. _Let Moody go_, _Vernon deserves as much._ Harry was tired of Dumbledore thinking everything was swell and dandy. It didn't matter that he suffered at Privet Drive. As long as Harry was alive and well, he was supposed to fight in this stupid war. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-and-Lived-and-Lived-and-Lived. But what kind of life was this? His parents were dead, Sirius was dead, even Cedric Diggory was dead. And it was his fault, all so that Famous Harry Potter could live.

He felt so overwhelmed; the pain of their deaths seemed to consume him. His body started to shake uncontrollably. He didn't want to be part of it any longer, he wanted to run away and hide, change his name, be an ordinary wizard. But that could never happen. Voldermort would never stop! _Neither one can live… while the other survives_…

"Poor boy, are you sure Harry can't stay with me?" Molly Weasley asked.

"No, he'll stay here. It's safest that way," Dumbledore responded.

They all sat discussing him, like he was some little child. Still shaking, Harry reached down into his pocket and pulled out his wand. He didn't know what he was doing. He just wanted to forget everything. He just wanted everyone to _shut up_ about it.

"But all by himself," Molly protested. A look from Dumbledore must have quieted her.

"Potter is sixteen; he hardly needs to be coddled," interrupted Snape. Harry could hardly believe his ears—of all people to speak up for him. "Besides, I've been able to remove that horrible old portrait and that foul little house elf. Now that Black is dead, since he was the last of the Blacks, many of house's Dark Arts spells have died with him. Of course, **I** never saw him try to remove any of the spells himself. Perhaps he was unable …"

That was all Harry needed to hear. Suddenly, all his emotions turned to anger. _How dare Snape talk about Sirius' death that way! How dare he sound so pleased with himself! _ He wanted to put Snape in his place, the sniveling little weasel. All he could think to do was the spell he'd seen his father do. Harry burst into the room, pointed his wand in Snape's direction, and before anyone knew he was there he started to say, "Lev-…" But he couldn't do it; Snape's face didn't look menacing. All at once, he remembered Lily's reaction. _Mum told dad to stop_. Harry saw the others all turning to look at him; they moved like they were in slow motion. "_L… Lumos_," he finally muttered.

They all looked dumfounded. Harry realized how ridiculous he must look, bounding into the room still in pajamas. It was Dumbledore who spoke, "Harry, what's the matter?"

"I… I," he tried to think of an excuse, his glowing wand was still pointing directly at Snape. Lowering his arm, he said, "I thought I saw something, that's all." Snape didn't look convinced. _Maybe he knew what I was going to do… _"_Nox_," Harry commanded, and his wand extinguished itself.

"Please sit down Harry," Dumbledore said, motioning towards a chair.

As Harry walked over to sit, Molly Weasley sprinted across the room. "Harry, you look awful," she said, her voice full of worry. "You look like you haven't eaten or slept in months." She wrapped her arms around Harry in a tight embrace. "Poor dear."

Harry pushed himself away, feeling suffocated and embarrassed. It was Snape who rescued him by saying, "Perhaps you could make Potter some breakfast." Molly didn't need any more persuasion; she got up and started preparing the meal.

Harry sat down at the table, and so did the others. As Harry looked around the room, he noticed that there were fewer people than normal for Order meetings. Only Professor Dumbledore, Mr. Weasley, Professor McGonagall, Alastor Moody, and Professor Snape were present.

After everyone was settled in, Dumbledore began to speak, "Now Harry, we were just discussing your living arrangements. It's simply not safe enough for you to return to the Dursley's." As Dumbledore spoke, Harry realized that he hadn't given the Dursleys a thought until just then. _Did the werewolves hurt them? _Dumbledore continued on, "Nor do I believe that you would be safe at the Weasley's. For now, you need to remain in an unplottable location. But if you would like, Molly has volunteered to stay here and take care of you."

"No, thank you," Harry blurted out.

"Well, he shouldn't be here all by himself. Just look at him, Albus," McGonagall interjected.

"Someone will come in to check on you from time to time," Dumbledore said in such a manner that Harry knew there was no point in arguing.

"Not that I'm complaining," Harry asked sheepishly, "but why can't I go back to the Dursley's? Are my Aunt and Uncle okay?"

"They are currently at St. Mungo's," explained Dumbledore, "but we can't tell what's wrong with them. They don't seem to be physically harmed, but they haven't spoken a word since."

"Perhaps they're just shocked," Harry suggested. "I mean, did they see the werewolves? Muggles aren't accustomed to seeing them, you know."

"The werewolves didn't go to your house Harry," said Dumbledore.

"What? But…"

"Potter, don't you remember?" Snape said, "After you screamed, they tried to follow us." Harry remembered wanting to scream, but at the time he didn't think any sound had come out. And then, his forehead hurt. Remembering the pain, Harry reached up to touch his scar.

"Harry, does your scar hurt?" asked Dumbledore.

"No, not right now, but at the time it did. When they looked at me…" Harry shuddered at the memory—how the werewolves stared at him, the feeling of their gaze. It was so awful. The adults all exchanged looks of curiosity. Harry wanted to change the subject; he didn't want to think about the werewolves anymore. "Where's Hagrid," he blurted out.

"Hagrid is currently working with the giants," Dumbledore explained. He slipped back into his professor-like voice, giving Harry the distinct perception that Dumbledore was leaving out half of the details. "He is trying to persuade some of them to join our cause."

"Why is he doing that?" Harry asked. "What difference does it make?"

"We are trying to bring as many people as we can to our side Harry, to draw them to our cause. It may make all the difference."

Suddenly, Harry remembered Lupin and began speaking very quickly, "How's Professor Lupin? You were looking for him… Where is he? Why isn't he here? Is he with the were- was he with the other werewolves?"

"Professor Lupin is well," Dumbledore responded. Harry waited for him to continue speaking; surely he would give Harry more details than that.

Harry tried to think of some other questions, to pull more information out of Dumbledore. But before he could, Molly walked over with steaming platters full of pancakes, sausages, eggs, and ham levitating behind her. With another flick of her wand, dishes jumped out of the dresser and landed in front of them. Order members quickly filled their plates and began to eat. At first, Harry was a little slower than the others were; he didn't feel much like eating. But Mrs. Weasley just watched him. It was like she was ready to hand feed him, if need be. Snape was the only one who didn't eat. He suddenly busied himself by reading some large book, and Harry couldn't make out the title on the dark leather binding.

After they were done eating, everyone gathered up their things to prepare to leave. Harry tried to approach Dumbledore. He wanted to question him some more about Lupin, but obviously the old man was avoiding him. Molly, however, started to hover around Harry, like she was ready to cling to him, rather than leave the _poor boy_ alone.

"Perhaps you could clean yourself up a bit, Harry," Mr. Weasley suggested. "Then Molly could be a little bit more comfortable about leaving you here alone."

Nodding, Harry left the room and went back upstairs to shower and dress. He got a fresh change of clothes out of his trunk and then went into the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, Harry could see why Mrs. Weasley was so worried about him. He did look skinnier than normal, his face was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His hair looked wild and his pajamas were a wrinkled mess. _I must have looked absolutely mad_, thought Harry, giggling to himself, _barging in there and saying "Lumos_."

Harry showered quickly; he wanted to show Mrs. Weasley he was okay. He had plans; after everyone was gone, he would search the house. Sirius had quite an extensive library. Perhaps he possessed a book or something that would give him clues about the veil. In any case, Harry could learn a lot more about Sirius and the Black family.

After he was dressed and his hair combed, Harry sprinted down the stairs. _Tah dah_, Harry thought as he presented himself to the Weasleys. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Moody, and Snape were already gone.

"Well now, Harry, I do say you look much better," Mr. Weasley declared.

Mrs. Weasley didn't look convinced, but Arthur had her by the arm and was pulling her to the floo. "Well, Harry dear, on the counter there you'll find a plate of chicken and ham sandwiches. It refills itself. Oh, and don't hesitate to floo if you need anything. I'll be at the burrow."

Mr. Weasley had a handful of floo powder in his hand and threw it down. "Burrow," he commanded.

He stepped into the fire, pulling his wife close behind, but Molly was still talking, "Do be caref-" And she disappeared from view.

xxxxx

For a while Harry waited, unsure if he were actually alone. With all of the paintings removed, Kreacher gone, and most of the noticeable infestations taken care of, Harry was surprised at just how alone he felt. It was exciting, so much freedom.

His first order of business was to explore the house. Just how big was it, anyway? When he was here the year before, he hadn't spent much time wandering around. Previously, he had to tiptoe, afraid to disturb the painting of Mrs. Black. And then every room had been infested with some annoying beasts, but now he didn't have any worries.

On the first floor, Harry inspected the drawing room. He doubted that the writing desk still contained a boggart, because the desk wasn't making any noise, but he didn't want to mess with it just yet. The tapestry showing the Black family tree was no longer there. Instead a dirty outline showed where it once had hung. _That's odd, why would Snape think he needed to remove it?_ The glass-fronted cabinets still held many of the dark artifacts; apparently some of them didn't want to be removed. _Perhaps Snape isn't as wonderful as he'd like to think he is_, Harry thought. Harry tried to open one of the doors to get a closer look at a beautiful silver hand mirror, but the doors wouldn't budge.

Before leaving the room, Harry walked over to the wall lined with shelves full of books. Some of them were so old the titles were worn off. He could probably spend hours thumbing through them. Suddenly, he thought of Hermione. _Hermione would love looking through these books_. If only he could ask Hermione to help him research the veil. But he knew if he asked her, she'd just owl Dumbledore, saying she was worried, and then he'd end up with Molly Weasley baby-sitting him.

Leaving the room, Harry climbed the stairs to the second floor. He passed by the room he and Ron had stayed in. Glancing in the room he noticed it was the same as before, except stark and empty. All of the other rooms down the hall were similar to each other.

Climbing the stairs once again, Harry decided to skip the third floor and go straight to the top. He went over to the largest bedroom, the one that used to belong to Mrs. Black. Harry wasn't too excited to see it, but he was hopeful that perhaps Buckbeak still lived there. Opening the door, Harry was sad to see that the room was completely deserted.

Harry glanced down the hall; _I suppose nothing much is left in this house anyway_. He decided to go back downstairs and look through the books in the drawing room, but as he turned to go, he caught sight of an odd-shaped door at the very end of the hall. It was skinnier than the rest of the doors and a bit shorter as well.

Interested, Harry ran down the hall and stopped right in front of it. He held out his hand to touch the door. It was normal wood, but somehow it seemed special. He pressed his ear to the door and listened. He heard nothing and decided to open it. The hinges creaked loudly and the whole house groaned, sending a shiver down Harry's spine.

Harry was surprised to see a set of old wooden stairs. The whole house was old for sure, but these stairs made him remember it. The wood was dull and covered in a thick layer of dust. The air smelled heavy and stale. He was almost afraid to breathe it in. But he had to go up the stairs; he had to see where they led.

As he climbed the stairs, Harry's legs felt heavy, as if his body was protesting, while his mind and heart told him to go on. He found himself in a small attic; the roof was low and sloping. No lights or lamps illuminated the space, but it was bright enough. Natural light leaked in through a series of circular holes that lined the bottom of all the walls.

The space was mostly empty, save a large trunk in the middle of the room. Nearing the trunk, Harry was able to make out the inscription, "Sirius Black_." This must be his school trunk!_ Harry was so excited, he couldn't wait to explore the contents. The trunk was really old, surprisingly so for it to belong to Sirius. _Not everyone gets a brand new trunk when they go to school._

Opening the trunk, it seemed just like anyone's school trunk. It was full of schoolbooks and clothes, but Harry's heart was filled with joy. _These were Sirius' things!_ Pulling out each item, he laid it carefully out on the floor. Mostly there were books, bits of parchment, quills, and a pile of school robes. But near the bottom, Harry caught sight of something gold.

Wrapping his fingers around the pendant, Harry felt the metal shiver, _or was that me?_ It was absolutely beautiful—two snakes intertwined, with emerald green eyes. And although they weren't moving, it seemed as though they were dancing. Harry stared at the pendant, running his fingers along the rough scales of the snakes. Time seemed to stand still, and before Harry noticed, it was beginning to get dark. _Ugh, someone's going to be checking in on me._

Quickly, Harry flung all of the belongings back into the trunk, but decided to slip the pendant into his robe pocket. Then, he ran down the stairs, back \ to the first floor, where he paused. _I should look through those books, there were so many, perhaps one of them has information on the veil_. Harry scanned the rows quickly. Titles seemed to jump out at him, and he felt compelled to take them.

xxxxx

Down in the kitchen, Harry had his schoolbooks spread across the table. Essays and notes were also scattered about. If someone were to "check in", he wanted to make it appear as if he were working on schoolwork. So far he had sifted through two of the books and found nothing useful. Frustrated, he got up to see about making himself some dinner; he hadn't eaten since breakfast. As he walked past the fire, two figures flooed in.

"Good evening, dear," Molly Weasley said, setting down a basket of food on the table. Harry didn't respond—he was to busy glaring at Snape. He knew people were going check in on him, but why him? "Hurry and move your things, Harry dear. I've brought some dinner for us."

Harry complied, and started piling his books haphazardly, not caring if bits of parchment with his notes and essays were being crumpled in the process. He didn't want Snape to notice some of the books' titles.

"I'd like to review your day's progress," Snape commented.

"What?" Harry gave Snape a cold look.

"Dumbledore wants to make sure you're keeping busy, but not straying into unnecessary research," Snape explained.

Harry blushed. So Dumbledore knew—he knew that Harry would be researching the veil. Without thinking, Harry grabbed a pile of parchment and flung it at Snape.

Glancing at it, Snape chided, "Notes from charms? Potter, I was unaware that Professor Flitwick gave out personal lessons." He waited for Harry to respond. "No? You have a large pile of books in your hand, Potter. Surely you've done some sort of work today." Frustrated, Harry shuffled through some of the parchments until he found something that he could pass off. It was his essay on the Bluegree Root; he hadn't done much, just listed out the three properties. But he didn't care what Snape thought; at least it was something.

Handing it to Snape, Harry turned his attention to Mrs. Weasley, "What's for dinner?"

Molly looked absolutely thrilled to see that Harry was hungry. "Well, you look a bit skinny, dear, so I brought along loads of food. Chicken pies, as well as boiled potatoes, and a nice, lush salad."

"Sounds wonderful," Harry said in the most cheerful voice he could manage. Harry knew he was laying on the charm a bit thickly. But Harry didn't care what they thought. He finally gathered up all his things, and flung them down on the floor beside the table.

Ignoring Harry's behavior, Mrs. Weasley asked, "Harry could you please set the table?" He knew he was being childish, but Harry only set two places. Molly set the trays of food down on the table, and shook her head when she noticed Harry's handiwork, but she said nothing.

Meanwhile, Snape sat reading his essay. Surely the Potions Master could read faster than that. Harry glanced over at Snape and noticed the man was reading other things as well. Suddenly, he wished he'd paid attention to what he handed the man.

Bringing the other dishes to the table, Molly sat down saying, "Severus, would you please join us?"

"I've already eaten," Snape answered, as he scribbled down some notes on one of Harry's papers.

Harry and Mrs. Weasley sat and ate.

"So, Harry, what have you been doing today?" Molly asked. Her voice was pleasant, but Harry still felt like she was prying.

"Oh, not much, a bit of homework, and I did rest awhile this afternoon." He was surprised by how convincing he sounded; he had never lied so well before. He didn't even feel guilty; in fact, he was pleased with himself. "What have you been doing?"

Molly looked happy to chat. "Well Ronald and Ginny have been staying with Fred and George this week, helping them with the joke shop. So the house has been very empty," a hint of loneliness filling her voice, "and Arthur has been busy at the office. He has to do a lot of work for other departments. The ministry has been quite overwhelmed now that You-Know-Who is back."

"Voldermort," Harry corrected her.

Ignoring him, Molly continued, "So I've been busy knitting and baking. Doing both at the same time can be quite interesting. When I wasn't paying attention, I accidentally added a bit of yarn to one of the batches of biscuits. It was such a disaster…"

Molly continued to speak, but Harry couldn't pay attention. He watched Snape sift through his essays. _Oh, why'd I give him so many?_ Snape would read a bit, and then scribble down some note. Harry tried to lean close, but when he did, Snape glanced up at him. Quickly, he shoved another forkful of food in his mouth.

Harry didn't realize how much he'd eaten until Mrs. Weasley said, "Poor dear, you were hungry. You've had three pies, two potatoes, and almost all the salad. I should have packed more food."

Harry blushed and pushed his plate away; "I'm quite full now, thanks." Molly Weasley began gathering up all the dishes. "You're leaving now?" he asked.

"Well, not if you want me to stay," she responded hopefully.

"No, no thanks," Harry quickly replied.

Once she had all her things gathered, she walked over to the floo. When it became apparent Snape wasn't going with her, Harry blurted out, "Professor Snape, you'd better hurry up, she's ready to go."

"Oh, I have much to finish here," Snape said plainly.

Harry was ready to protest and Molly waited quietly by the floo, afraid to leave the two on their own.

"Fine," Harry said. "Just leave my schoolwork on the table when you're finished. I'm going to bed; I do need my rest after all." And he stormed out of the room.

xxxxx

Harry lay in Sirius' bed. He had changed into his pajamas just in case Snape came up to check on him. The thought of it made Harry's stomach turn. Of course, he had no intention whatsoever of going to sleep. How could Harry not think of Sirius when he was sleeping in Sirius' bed, in Sirius' house no less?

So Harry waited. It was already dark. Surely Snape would be gone by now. Once he was sure he was alone in the house, he figured he'd have more time to look through his books.

Stepping out of bed, Harry slipped on his shoes and then flung his robe over his shoulders. Harry tiptoed across the room, being sure to be quiet in case Snape was still lurking about. The door to the bedroom was nearly silent when he opened it, and none of the stairs creaked as he nimbly crept down them. Reaching the kitchen, Harry held his breath and listened for any sign of movement. Hearing nothing, Harry sighed in relief.

"Potter." He jerked around to see Snape no more than three feet away. "What are you doing?"

Harry was startled to say the least. Not only was he surprised to see that Snape was there, but how had the man gotten so close without him noticing? Instinctively, Harry reached into his robe pocket and put a hand on his wand. He stepped backwards, away from Snape's looming figure. Bumping up against the wall, Harry thought quickly for some sort of excuse.

"I'm hungry," Harry said, unconvincingly.

"Right," Snape said. Obviously the man remembered dinner, only a few hours before.

"I, well actually, I wanted to get my homework," Harry lied. This didn't sound anymore credible than the last excuse. "What are you doing here anyway?" Harry shouted abruptly, hoping to shift the conversation's focus.

Snape took the bait, "You don't think Dumbledore would really leave you all alone at night. You're in a bit of a fragile state."

Harry's face became hot. He felt like attacking the man again, but that was probably what Snape wanted. _If I lash out, _Harry thought, _he'd have an excuse for having Mrs. Weasley baby-sit me..._ Instead, he turned away from Snape and dashed into the kitchen to grab all of his schoolwork. Harry knew Snape had followed close behind him. Everything sat neatly on the table, the books all stacked up and the parchment in a flat, tidy pile. _Snape's been a busy little professor_. Harry grabbed the pile of parchment without saying a thing. He noticed some of the books were missing.

"I've discussed things with Dumbledore. He agreed that you are going to need to complete a certain amount of homework each day."

"What!"

"This obsession with the veil is unhealthy."

"I- I…" Harry wanted to defend himself. _What did Snape know?_ But he couldn't think of what to say. "I should be going back to bed."

"Potter, if you're having trouble sleeping," Snape said without emotion, "I could provide you with a potion."

"I don't need anything from you," Harry spat.

"Honestly ,Potter," Snape began to lecture.

Harry cut him off. "I don't want anything from you, so let it go!" Harry sprinted out of the room. He didn't stop running until he was back in Sirius' room. Slamming the door shut, Harry leaned against it. _I don't need anything from anyone_.

He didn't think he would ever be able to go to bed while he knew Snape was wandering about. So he sat leaning against the door, afraid to move. As the night went on, the house made strange noises and creaks. Each one would make Harry jump. But at some time in the night, Harry drifted off to sleep, hunched against the door.

xxxxx

Without realizing it, Harry drifted off into a dream. He was running around the Department of Mysteries, only it was much different than before. He was trapped in a long hall, filled with identical white doors. But each door he walked through would lead to exactly the same hallway as before. Harry gave up trying the doors—he decided to find the end of the hall. Surely it would end eventually. Harry was breathing hard now; he didn't think he'd ever see an end. But just as he thought that, he smashed straight into a door and fell back onto his butt.

Adjusting his glasses, Harry looked up to the door. "Mysterious Veil" a sign read. Harry smiled as he climbed back to his feet. Opening the door, he saw just what he had come for. An ancient stone archway with a fluttering black veil sat on a raised platform. Thousands of different voices could be heard whispering behind the veil. Slowly, Harry stepped closer, hoping to make out Sirius' voice.

"Sirius," he yelled, when he was but a foot away.

"What do you want Harry?" whispered a cold, dead voice.

"Sirius, I er… I want to talk to you, come out and talk to me."

"Harry, you're not looking so well," said Sirius stepping casually through the black cloth.

"Well, neither are you!" Harry wasn't exaggerating. Sirius was dressed all in black, looking like he was fresh out of Azkaban.

"What do you expect Harry? I've been trapped behind this veil for, well, how long has it been?"

"Well, um, a few months or –"

"Oh Harry, don't lie to me, it's been ages!" Sirius sounded really mad.

"No, it was-"

"Harry, just look at yourself, you're an old man. People can't age like that in just a few months."

Harry lifted the broken piece of Sirius' mirror. Harry was old; he looked older than even Dumbledore.

"But I," Harry blushed. He tried to explain, but it had been such a long time. "Well, Dumbledore wouldn't let me. Snape said it was unnatural. I tried…"

"Snape! Well, of course, Snape would say that, he hated me. But you, Harry, why would you believe him?" Sirius' eyes dug deep down into Harry's soul.

"Sirius, I'm sorry. I didn't-" Harry pleaded.

"Lot of good that does now!" Sirius shouted. He grabbed Harry by the arm. "You need to go, get out of my sight!" Harry struggled to free himself from Sirius' grasp, but Sirius had Harry by the hair now and he felt much smaller. He was five year's old again, about to be shoved into the cupboard. Only this was different. He knew he wouldn't be able to get out of the veil; no one would know he was there.

"No, Sirius, please. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Opening his eyes, Harry realized he was laying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Slowly, feeling returned to his arms and legs. At first, he didn't want to breathe—his whole body was shaking. Regaining his senses, he noticed he was clutching the snake pendant he'd found earlier that day. His schoolwork was scattered everywhere. He must have been tossing about in his sleep.

The door behind him banged into his body. "Potter, what is the matter?"

_It's Snape_, Harry thought. He quickly shoved the pendant back into his robe pocket. Then he scrambled to his feet, and backed away from the door before Snape could shove him out of the way.

"Potter, are you okay?" Snape asked, holding up his lit wand to Harry's face.

"I'm fine," Harry bitterly replied, slapping Snape's wand out of his face. He wiped madly at his face; he hadn't noticed the tears before.

"You were screaming-"

"I said I was fine!" His voice was full of hatred. "Now get out of my room!"

"You will not talk to me like that, Potter," Snape warned.

"If you don't want me to talk to you," Harry pulled his wand out of his robe and held it out ready to attack, "I suggest you leave."

"Potter, what do you think you're doing?" Clearly, Snape was not threatened.

"Do I have to spell it out for you, Snivellus?" Harry sounded so utterly cocky that he surprised himself. For a moment, Harry regretted what he said. But then a voice whispered in his mind, _he's trying to stop you. He doesn't want you to save Sirius_.

The look on Snape's face was ready to kill. Under normal circumstances, Harry would have backed away in fear. Snape opened his mouth to speak, but paused. Suddenly, his face changed—it was emotionless, unreadable. "Potter, you need to go to bed; you're not yourself." Snape was so calm, it was irritating.

Harry wanted to yell at the man some more. But Snape turned and left the room, leaving Harry alone in the darkness.

For a while, Harry didn't move, but then he was filled with conviction. "I swear to you, Sirius," Harry said, barely above a whisper. "I swear I will get you back."

_That's a good boy, Harry_, soothed an imaginary voice.

Authors note:

So chapter two is complete, what do you think? You know, you want to leave a review…

Coming soon:

Chapter 3: Voices


	3. Voices

Chapter 3

Voices

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After the dream Harry was unable to sleep. If Snape was going to baby-sit him at night he'd just use the time to finish a day's worth of essays. At the Dursley's Harry had managed to do most of his summer assignments from all his classes except potions. So he sat with only a light glow from the end of his wand and worked away. He found it easier to work on Snape's assignments now that he didn't really care how well he did.

Some time in the dead of night he was interrupted from his work by a light taping on his window. "Hedwig," Harry whispered as he looked up to see the snow-white owl. He leapt off his bed and when over to open the window. Hedwig flew in and dropped a couple of colorful packages on his bed. Then a several other owls fluttered in carrying even more presents. Harry went over to pay them, but the owls all avoided him, like they were afraid. As the last owl flew out the window Harry noticed that it didn't have a coin purse attached to its leg. "Did you get ordinary owls to help you carry my packages?" Harry asked Hedwig as he scratched her neck. She gave him a look as to say 'who me?'

Flopping down on his bed, Harry grabbed the present that was closest to him. It was wrapped neatly in Gryffindor colors, glancing at the card Harry saw that it was from Neville. Ripping the paper off Harry discovered an olive green book, 'Handy Houseplants for the Happy Herbologist'. Harry tossed it aside and began opening other presents from DA members; they gave him various assortments of Chocolate Frogs, Every Flavor Beans, Fizzing Whizbees and Cockroach Clusters. Fred and George gave him a package of brightly colored wands, he didn't know what they were called, but an attached note read, 'new product from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.'

Looking over the last few packages Harry was sad to see that none were from Hagrid or Lupin, apparently they were both too busy. That left presents from Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione. He opened Hermione's first, he wasn't surprised to find a book, it was entitled 'A History of Quidditch.' Ron's was a little more interesting. It was a small wooden trunk, like a miniature replica of his school trunk. He opened the trunk and it was empty. But when he tossed it aside he heard something rattle . Opening it again the trunk was now filled with Every Flavor Beans. A tiny bit of parchment stuck out. Pulling it out Harry read the note:

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday! Mum allowed me to help out Fred and George this summer and they paid me! Anyway I got this little trunk off a street vender. He said it had a whole bunch of different chambers and you have to do something different so as to be able to open up to a different one. I stuck these beans in the chamber that is accessible after you toss the trunk aside. I've also discovered three other chambers (they're also filled with candies), but you have to figure them out yourself!

Enjoy,

Ron

Harry studied the miniature trunk a bit more and then set it aside to open Dumbledore's present. Tearing a small piece of the wrapping, lemon drops spilled out all over Harry's bed. Underneath all the lemon drops was a small colorful book. It didn't have a title, instead a letter would appear and then it would transfigure into an animal that began with the same letter. Harry knew the old man was a bit strange at times, but this was the weirdest gift yet. He opened the front cover and read its inscription. 'Happy first birthday dear, you're getting to be such a big boy! We love you so much, Mum and Dad.'

Harry read the inscription over and over. He couldn't believe it; his Mum and Dad had given this book to him on his first birthday. It was his only birthday present from them ever. He clung to it tightly, but he wondered why Dumbledore had chosen now to give it to him.

Dumbledore was always keeping things from him, telling him half-truths, or hiding things completely. It was strategy; Dumbledore had something to gain by giving it to Harry now, _but what_? Harry thumbed through the pages, looking for a note, but Dumbledore hadn't left one.

_Don't think about it Harry_, chimed a voice inside his head_, Dumbledore wants to distract you from your task._

Harry shoved all of the candy into the top drawer of his bedside table and then put his new books and miniature trunk away with his school things. And then he sat back down to continue with writing his essays; he didn't stop until the room had become bright.

He was surprised to see that it was morning already. He used a spare blanket to cover up his essays and the potions book. Then he slipped on his robe and tucked his pendant underneath his pajama top.

Harry left his room and went down to the kitchen to eat breakfast. He felt thoroughly pleased with himself; he'd insulted Professor Snape the night before and got away with it. _That ugly git will think twice to mess with me again_, he thought. Descending the stairs into the basement he was actually looking forward to messing with Snape again.

"Good mor-" Mrs. Weasley caught site of Harry and nearly gasped. Regaining her senses she continued with a phony pleasant voice, "Good morning dear," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Good morning," Harry replied, "What's for breakfast? Is Professor Snape going to join us?" He nearly giggled to himself, but stopped when he realized that Dumbledore was watching him from the table.

"Harry please sit down," Dumbledore commanded. The old man maintained his calm demeanor, but his tone required obedience. Harry sat down and said nothing; meanwhile Mrs. Weasley made herself scarce. "I understand that you have been through a lot in the past months Harry and you need time to cope. But it is unacceptable for you to treat Professor Snape with disrespect." Harry opened his mouth to complain, but Dumbledore held up his hand, silencing him. "Today I expect you to write 1,000 lines. I've copied down the statement for you." Dumbledore motioned across the table to a quill, an ink bottle, and a bit of parchment with something scrolled at the top of it. "I expect you to use the provided material. And you will spend the day doing just that."

"But what about my schoolwork," Harry retorted.

"I think you have completed enough last night," Dumbledore replied.

_How'd he know that_, Harry thought, _did Snape lurk just outside my room, eavesdropping on me?_

"Well now let's eat breakfast," Dumbledore said changing the subject. They all sat and ate, Harry said nothing while Mrs. Weasley and Dumbledore chatted away.

Just before they left, Dumbledore gave Harry one final warning, do his lines, treat Snape with respect, and to clean himself up. Harry barely listened, just nodded his head and waited for them to leave.

Once they were gone Harry went over to find out what Dumbledore had assigned him to write. The note read:

As an honorable young man I will treat my elders with the utmost respect.

Professor Severus Snape will be addressed in a manner concurrent with the honor

he is entitled to. Any disrespect will not be tolerated, as such I am writing these

lines.

Harry's jaw dropped. Never before had he been expected to write such a long statement for his lines. Now 1,000 lines seemed absolutely mind boggling. Begrudgingly he got to work.

In the monotony a voice deep inside him began to speak, _You don't have to do this Harry._

_If I don't, _Harry thought back, _I'll be stuck here with someone watching me all the time and then I won't ever be able to research the veil._

_You're not researching now…_

"Oh shut up," Harry answered. He continued to write his lines, all the while thinking about how much he hated Snape. When he got to line 23 he accidentally wrote Snivellus instead of Severus. The accident startled him; he got out his wand and tried to spell it away. But none of his charms worked against the parchment. Using his index finger he smeared a bit of ink over the word. He didn't want Dumbledore to see the mistake; he'd probably assign more lines. Continuing along Harry was surprised to see that he made the mistake again, on line 26. After scribbling it out Harry clearly wrote Severus, but when it can to Snape he accidentally wrote Snake. It was one think to slip up when he was mindlessly writing along, but he knew he was being careful now. _Why am I doing this?_ he thought.

_Snape is a sniveling little snake_, a voice suggested.

_Dumbledore is going to be mad_, Harry thought. _I need to just do these lines and be done with them_.

_Ah Dumbledore_, the voice replied, _he's a bit senile at times_.

Harry was writing the last bit of his statement, 'as such I am writing these lines.' _I know why I'm writing the lines,_ he thought,_ it's a bit redundant, why would he add it in?_

_He's keeping you busy_, answered the voice.

_Ah yes_, Harry thought, _they all think I'm in a fragile state_.

_No Harry_, the voice explained, _Dumbledore is preventing you from knowing the truth. Just as he always does._

Harry felt his face get hot, that made him really mad. _He always tells me half the truth, _he thought, _so I can go dodder around like an idiot_.

_And then someone dies_, the voice said softly, _because you don't know what you're doing._

"Sirius is not dead!" Harry shouted, stabbing his quill down on the paper and breaking it. He hadn't realized he was still writing his lines, although not exactly how Dumbledore had scribed it.

_He's as good as dead, _interjected the voice_, while you site idly by and let him rot behind that veil_.

The remark cut deep into his soul. Feelings of guilt flooded over him and memories of the dream flashed back into his mind. He couldn't breathe; the stress of it all was choking him. "What do I do?" he asked quietly, as a tear rolled down his cheek.

_You know what to do._

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Filled with determination Harry ran upstairs. He madly ripped books off the wall, he didn't know what titles he was picking, he could read them all. With as much as he could carry and levitate he went upstairs to the attic, where no one could find him, and got to work.

In the attic he would grab a random book and thumb through it. If he didn't find anything interesting he would chuck the book across the room. Anytime he found mention of a veil, or curtain he would rip out the page and hang it on the wall. After a while he noticed that sometimes v-e-i-l would be hidden in the text, with extra letters in between it. Of course information would be hidden, eventually he would find a pattern. He started circling all the letters, v, e, i, and l and drew lines to link them together. He continued wildly ripping papers out of books, tacking them to the walls, and scribbling over them.

He didn't notice the time passing until he woke up lying on the floor. He could see through vents in the wall that the sky was black. Gasping, reality snapped back to him. He got up quickly, pocketed his wand, and ran his fingers through his hair. He was still in his pajamas and probably looked horrible. But he had to get back down to the kitchen before they knew what he was up to.

When he got to the kitchen he was surprised to find that no one was there. His inkpot lay on its side and ink ran all over the table and down to the floor. Harry was happy to see that no one had messed with it. Relieved he began to clean up his mess. He wished he had his watch on, he knew it had to be getting late.

"Potter," Snape snapped, "Where have you been?"

Harry turned around and to meet eyes with the livid Professor. "I, er, I fell asleep," Harry replied.

"And where was that? You weren't in your bed."

"What were you doing in my room," Harry asked.  
"Don't change the subject Potter," Snape snarled.

"Or what you'll run along to Dumbledore?" Harry sarcastically replied. He turned away to continue cleaning up his mess.

Snape snatched the parchment out of his hand. "Dumbledore will be seeing this, I had no idea you could be creative."

"I suppose you have no idea about a lot of things," Harry casually retorted.

"All right Potter," Snape sneered, "you're lucky Dumbledore thinks you're a bit fragile right now. Famous Harry Potter can do and get away with whatever he wants. But he asked me to keep you safe and at the moment you can't be trusted. So you're to stay here in the basement until Dumbledore can figure out what to do with you."

"Oh yeah right," Harry responded, "Like I'm going to stay here. I think its time for bed." Harry strode over to the stars and started to walk up them. The second step chucked him backwards and he fell on his back. "What do you think you're doing, attacking a student?" Harry yelled.

Snape was busy transfiguring the end of the table into a small bed. "I didn't do anything Potter. Now if you're tired, feel free to go bed." Snape sat down at the other end of the table and started to look over Harry's parchment.

"Like I'm going to sleep here with you watching," Harry replied.

Without looking up from his the parchment Snape raised his wand and with a flick a large thick curtain surrounded the bed. Although the black fabric didn't move, it distinctly reminded him of the veil.

Harry reached his hand in his robe and pulled out his wand, pointing it towards Snape he yelled, "You let me out of here right now!"

"Expelliarmus," Snape spoke fast. Harry's wand flew out of his hand, fell to the floor, and rolled under the table. Harry dropped to the floor and crawled after it. Meanwhile Snape warned, "Potter, that is the last time you point your wand at me. If you do it again I will confiscate it." For a moment Harry thought he might be able to attack, but as he stood up he pocketed it. He knew he would have a chance later, when Snape was off guard.

Harry sat down at the table, for a moment he didn't know what to do. Although he hadn't eaten since breakfast he didn't feel like eating. He was way over tired, but he didn't feel like sleeping either. So he sat and glared at Snape. Whether Snape noticed or not he didn't say, this irritated Harry to no end.

"May I have my quill and parchment back?" Harry blurted out.

"No," Snape flatly replied

"Why not, Dumbledore said to do my lines," Harry whined.

Snape raised an eyebrow and glanced momentarily at Harry, but said nothing. He had set Harry's parchment aside and was looking through another old book. Harry glared at Snape some more, for an instant a small part of him knew he was being stupid. He had no idea what time it was and he was having trouble keeping his head up. But he didn't want to let Snape win by going to bed.

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_Suddenly Harry found himself back at the Department of Mysteries, standing in front of the veil. He reached out to touch the swaying black cloth, but before he did Sirius stepped out of it. Sirius looked beyond angry, his bloodshot eyes pierced through Harry._

_"You're wasting time you cowering little nitwit," Sirius glared. Harry backed away, but was caught when Sirius wrapped his hand around Harry's neck. As the grip tightened Harry struggled to breathe._

_"Sirius, I-" Harry tried to speak, but the hand around his neck tensed. Tears flowed freely from his eyes._

_"You weakly little good for nothing boy," Sirius sad shaking him. Harry pulled back; breaking free of the hold, Harry fell. He hit his head hard on the stone floor. The pain shot quickly through him, his stomach twisted._

_"Harry… _Harry."

Harry recognized the voice, but couldn't make it out. He looked around, but everything was blurry. The motion made him sick, a strong hand held his head steady. Harry flinched to get away, but it was too strong.

A cup was pressed to his lips, "Drink Harry." He could imagine the twinkling eyes, when the man spoke. _Dumbledore_, he thought. He felt safer and relaxed his jaw, letting the liquid flow into his mouth.

Swallowing, the room around him felt steadier. Over time his eyesight came into focus. Dumbledore sat a few feet away studying his face. Harry realized he sprawled out on the floor. Someone was still holding his head steady, but Dumbledore was too far away. Startled Harry glance over his shoulder, Snape stared back at him. Horrified Harry pushed himself away and attempted to stand. That was not a good idea, the sickening feeling returned to his stomach and all he managed to do was flop onto his side.

"Harry calm down," Dumbledore comforted, "you just hit your head fairly hard on the ground."

"How… what happened," Harry was so confused. Last thing he remembered he was sitting at the table.

"You were asleep Harry," Dumbledore explained, "at the table. And then suddenly jerked backwards."

"How long was I asleep?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore looked to Snape who answered, "About an hour."

"How long have you been here Professor?"

"Oh, less than twenty minutes," Dumbledore replied. "I came for breakfast. I am a bit shocked to find you sleeping here at the table."

"Well Snape wouldn't let me go to bed," Harry defended himself.

"Professor Snape Harry," Dumbledore corrected. "And I agree with his decision, you are not in a fit state to be left alone." Harry face became hot, he tried to get up and storm out of the room. But his stomach reminded him why he was sitting.

"Well of course," Harry yelled, "now that I have a concussion."

"You don't have a concussion," Dumbledore responded. "But when was the last time you ate?" Harry shrugged; he didn't want to admit that it was breakfast the day before. "And how much have you slept?" Harry honestly didn't know the answer to that so he just looked away. "So alas, someone will be here with you from now on to make sure that you take care of yourself."

Harry blurted out the first thought that came to mind, "Not him."

"Harry, you don't have much of a choice in the matter," Dumbledore said calmly. "And since my punishment seems to have failed, Severus has come up with his own idea."

"What?" Harry asked sheepishly. Dumbledore didn't respond so Harry continued with more confidence, "Well at least I should be aloud to sleep in my own bed, I'm not staying down here!"

"You will do as you're told, until you earn the trust Harry," Dumbledore responded. Harry didn't argue anymore, he knew there was no point to it. "So what would you like to do first Harry, sleep or eat?"

Harry glared at him for a moment; he wanted to get away from them all. "I'll sleep thank you," he snidely remarked.

Again he tried to stand, but Dumbledore stopped him. Taking the cup out of Snape's hand he said, "Harry drink the rest of this."

He took the cup and looked at the contents, "What is it?"

"It's a unique blend," Dumbledore explained, "A combination of Calming Draught and Sleeping Draught with a bit of Dreamless Sleep. It's a really marvelous potion and will provide you with a sound nights sleep."

"I'm not drinking anything he made," Harry said pointing at Snape.

"Potter, if I'd poisoned the potion you'd be dead already," Snape snapped.

"Fine," Harry said annoyed and gulped down the cup's contents.

Helping Harry to his feet Dumbledore said, "Now let's get you to bed before you fall asleep right here on the floor." He walked Harry to the bed and then left him alone.

Harry wished he could go upstairs to his room, the thought of sleeping in the kitchen aggravated him. But the potion was already taking effect; he needed to lie down before he fell down. Harry kicked off his shoes and shrugged of his robe. Crawling onto his bed he heard the men speaking on the other side of his curtain.

"Professor," Snape sounded annoyed, "The boy has some vendetta against me, perhaps you could find some other baby-sitter."

"Right now Severus you're the only one I can trust with the job. As you know Remus and Rubeus are otherwise engaged."

"What about the Weasleys?" Snape asked. Harry enjoyed hearing the man complain. If he had to suffer, then so too should Snape.

"I don't believe Molly could handle him just yet," Dumbledore explained.

He continued to say more, but Harry couldn't concentrate on it. Instead he thought about Snape's potion. He could feel his body calming down into a deep sleep.

_He poisoned you_, a voice whispered into his ear.

"No!" Harry yelled, fear tried to rise up in him. But his body relaxed and his mind wandered off into a deep sleep.

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Harry didn't know how long he slept, but when he woke up he felt more refreshed than he had in a long time. He stayed in bed, listening to the room, but after a short time he got up quietly and put on his robe. Stepping out of his curtain he was surprised to find Mrs. Weasley and Professor McGonagall siting at the table. Mrs. Weasley was knitting, while Professor McGonagall was busy writing something. Neither of them seemed to notice he was up.

"Good morning," Harry said in a sarcastically sweet voice. "I see Snape has managed to weasel his way out of baby-sitting duties. So what's for breakfast?"

"_Professor_ Snape will be back shortly Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall, she didn't sound amused. "Now sit down." Harry did as he was told and a plate of food appeared in front of him. Neither of the women spoke, so Harry ate in silence. When his plate was empty McGonagall spoke again. "Follow me," she commanded. Professor McGonagall got up and started walking up the stairs. Slowly Harry followed her, but hesitated before stepping on the first stair. "Hurry up," she said without looking back. Harry obeyed, but half expected the stair to chuck him backwards. He followed Professor McGonagall all the way up into his room. "Gather some clothes," she ordered, "And go in and take a shower. I trust you can bathe yourself."

"Of course I can!" Harry blurted out.

"You have fifteen minutes," she warned as Harry gathered up a set of clothes.

He contemplated asking her what would happen if he took too long, but changed his mind. He sprinted in to the bathroom and pulled off his clothes.

He was about to pull of his pendant, but a voice in his mind shouted, _No! She wants to take it from you. Keep it on._

_You're right, _Harry thought back. Leaving the pendant on he quickly showered and got dressed. Combing his hair he heard a knock at the door.

"Mr. Potter your times up," shouted Professor McGonagall. Tucking his pendant safely below his shirt he stepped out of the room. "Now back downstairs."

"Can I at least gather some things?" Harry complained.

"No."

"But I-"

"I said no," McGonagall cut him off.

Harry knew there was no point in arguing and went back down to the basement. There, Harry found that the table had been piled high with old cauldrons, dripping with a menagerie of potions. Groaning, Harry didn't need any explanation, he knew what Snape had in mind.

"Potter," Snape sneered. Harry was startled; Snape had a way of blending in with the room and then suddenly being right behind him. "You will wash these cauldrons, wandless. Not that magic would help anyway, most of these are from charmed potions."

Harry rolled up his sleeves to get to work, he wanted to be as compliant as possible so that they would leave him alone again. Meanwhile Professor McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley left. Snape pulled one of the chairs away from the table and sat down to read a book. Harry tentatively reached out to select a cauldron.

"Potter," Snape snapped, causing Harry to jump back. "Do you have any idea what you're about to touch?"

"I, er…" Harry didn't know.

"Gloves Potter," Snape sneered, "Are you completely incompetent?"

Grumbling, Harry grabbed a pair of dragon hide gloves that were sitting next to the bucket of soapy water. _Insufferable_ _git_, Harry thought to himself as he pulled on the gloves. _Of course I don't know what's all over these cauldrons._

For a while Harry scrubbed in silence. After a short while he had eleven cauldrons sparkling clean. But when he got to the twelfth, something happened that he didn't expect. He had a firm grip on the cauldron, but then he watched his hands casually let go. The cauldron hit the floor and crashed into a thousand pieces. Cognitively he didn't mean to, he was thoroughly confused-_ but why, what happened… how_, Harry thought. It was as if his hands wanted to drop the cauldron.

"Potter, could you be more careless," Snape criticized, jumping to his feet he swiftly walked over to Harry. "Move back," he said shoving Harry away from the mess. Snape muttered a spell in a language Harry didn't recognize. The floor was clear of all the cauldron pieces, but a distinct green tint remained on the stones. When he was satisfied with the floor Snape looked back at Harry and asked, "Did you get any of the potion on you?"

_What do you care_, Harry thought, but didn't say anything.

"Fine, get back to work. And try to control yourself," Snape commanded as he returned to his chair. Harry watched Snape for a while, he tried to read the cover of the book, but it was just too far. _Perhaps it has something on the veil_, Harry thought_. Oh the veil- _Images of Harry's dream flooded back to him. _Sirius was so mad_. Instinctively raised his hand to protect his throat, his body started shaking.

"Potter, what do you want?" Snape asked.

Blushing Harry realized that he was staring at Snape. Looking away, Harry grabbed another cauldron and began to scrub. He felt his hand flinch, it wanted to let go again. _No_, he thought and willed the grasp to stay tight.

_Oh get rid of the unbearable git_, the phantom voice instructed. _You have more important things to do_.

_I can't_, Harry thought. _There's nothing I can do_.

_Fine, let Sirius toil behind the veil_, the voice taunted. _It's your fault he's there and now you let him suffer. And for what, to please his worst enemy?_

"No!" Harry shouted, as his hand swung out and knocked several cauldrons off the table. This time he backed away from the mess and looked desperately at Snape. He didn't mean to hit the cauldrons, only a part of him did. But how could he explain that to Snape.

"Potter what's wrong with you?" Snape shouted.

"I... I," Harry stammered.

Snape cleaned up the mess and then looked intensely at Harry. "Sit down," Snape commanded as he pulled a chair away from the table. Obediently Harry sat down and Snape continued, "Are you ill or are you really that careless."

_How can I explain this_, Harry thought.

_You're a wimpy little boy_, the voice ridiculed, _you're too afraid to stand up to the big bad professor and save your friend._

"I am not," Harry yelled.

"Then explain yourself," Snape ordered.

"This is ridiculous," Harry shouted with bravado, but with each word he got a little more confidence. "I have more important things to do, now let me go!"

Harry got out of chair, but Snape pushed him back down. "You will do as you're told Potter," Snape snapped.

Harry stood back up with such a force the chair flew backwards. "Keep your hands off me, you sniveling git." Harry turned to walk away, but a hand grabbed his shoulder. Harry ducked to escape the grasp and fell to the floor. Rolling to his back, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at Snape.

"Expelliarmus," Snape shouted before Harry could utter a word. Harry scrambled to retrieve his wand, but Snape snatched it up.

"Give that back," Harry shouted as he lunged at the professor. Snape stepped out of the way and Harry toppled to the floor.

"I told you Potter," Snape scathed. "If you pointed this at me again, I would confiscate it." Snape tucked Harry's wand into his robe.

Feelings of despair crept over Harry. He was so defenseless without his wand. At any moment someone could attack him, someone always wanted to hurt him. "Please sir," Harry pleaded, "Give me back my wand."

"No," Snape said calmly, although he looked alarmed at Harry's desperation. Harry scooted back to the wall and pulled his knees to his chest. Hugging himself he buried his head in his arms. Snape stared at him a while, as if he didn't know what to do. But then he went back to his chair and continued reading.

_What do I do?_ Harry thought desperately.

_Get your want back you idiot_, the voice answered.

"But how," he muttered quietly, as tears welled up in his eyes.

_You've faced the Dark Lord and yet you can do nothing against this simple man?_ the voice scorned. "Think Potter, think!" the voice escaped Harry's lips. All at once Harry stood up and surveyed the room.

"There's nothing I can do," Harry pleaded.

"Potter, what are you talking about?" Snape asked, but his voice was barely audible.

"Oh you cowardly little twit," the voice shouted, but again the sound came out of Harry's mouth.

"I am not!" Harry yelled back pushing the pile of cauldrons causing many to crash on the floor.

"Potter-" Snape's voice seemed so distant. And yet when Harry looked over to the Professor, he knew what he had to do.

"He's attacking you," Harry shouted to himself. Harry could see Snape yelling at him, but he couldn't hear any of the words. He scrambled away, like a caged animal. But Snape stalked after him. Madly snatching up several cauldrons, Harry tossed them across the room. The first few crashed into the wall, far away from Snape. But finally one hit the ceiling and shattered, it's contents splashed all over Snape's head.

For a moment Harry snapped back into reality. He could hear Snape yelling, "Potter, control yourself." Snape quickly used the sleeves of his robe to wipe his face clean. He examined the potion on his sleeve and after smelling it all color drained from his face. "Potter, do you have any idea what you've done." Snape's knees buckled, he was falling to the floor. Large boils were forming where bits of potion had come into contact with is face.

"I-" Harry didn't know what he was doing. He took a step over, about to help the man. "I… He dissevered it," he shouted suddenly, "now you know what to do." Harry sprinted over to his discarded wand and snatched it up. Filled with conviction Harry dashed up the stairs two at a time.

From the top of the stairs Harry could hardly hear Snape's voice call out, "Harry…"

Authors Note:

Please leave some reviews, even if to say, "Hi, I read your story." The next chapter may take a bit longer to write than the last two, so please stay tuned. I'm getting horribly behind at school…

Coming Soon:

Chapter 4: The Department of Mysteries.


	4. The Department of Mysteries

Chapter 4:

The Department of Mysteries

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Back in drawing room Harry started pulling the remaining books off the shelf. "The is stupid," he said, "I don't see anything on the veil."

"Of course you wouldn't," he answered himself back. "I'm sure Dumbledore and Snape have hidden them from you!"

Angry, Harry stormed out of the room. He crossed the hall into the nearest bedroom. He looked under the bed, pulled all the blankets off and cut open the pillows. He searched through all of the closets pulling out any and all contents. Finding nothing he moved on to the next room. He moved on the next room, and tore through it in a similar fashion. And then he continued to the next room and then the next. He made sure to leave nothing uncovered.

On the second floor Harry discovered a door that was warded shut. Smiling to himself Harry was excited to break his way in.

"Alohomora" he shouted waving his wand. Nothing happened- the door wouldn't budge. He threw his body against the door and still it wouldn't open. "Open up," he cried out, leaning against the door he slid to the ground. He knew the answer was behind this door, he had to find a way in. "Why won't you open," tears started washing down his cheeks.

But suddenly he got and idea. He stood up and laughed with the tears still streaming down his cheeks. Sprinting down to the entrance hall he grabbed the umbrella stand and ran back up to the room. Swinging it like an ax Harry pummeled the door with all his strength. At first the blows made little more than a dent, but over time bits of wood started to splinter. Harry didn't give in to the pain forming in his arms; he just beat away at the door until he created a hole big enough to slip through.

Tossing the umbrella stand aside Harry maneuvered his way into the room. His robe caught and caused a large rip. But Harry didn't pay any attention; he had gotten into the room.

It was apart to Harry that he had found Snape's room. A potion was brewing next to a large table covered in random potion ingredients and several open books. The rest of the room was spotless. The bed was made and only a large trunk sat at the foot of it. First Harry looked through the items on the table, smashing bottles and spilling things everywhere. He thumbed through the books, but found nothing. Next he tried to open Snape's trunk, but it too was warded, he didn't think he would ever be able to get in it. Giving up he tore apart Snape's bed and then searched through the bathroom.

"There's nothing here!" he shouted angrily. He fell backwards onto Snape's bed. "What am I going to do? Sirius is going to be so angry." Memories of the dream flashed back into his mind. He pictured Sirius' sneering face as he stepped out of the veil.

Gasping he bolted upright. "You've know all along!" he declared.

Climbing through the door again he scratched himself this time, but paid no attention to the pain. He had one thought in his mind, he had to get to the Department of Mysteries.

Running to his room rummaged through his trunk until he found the invisibility cloak and his broom. Harry opened the window and flung the invisibility cloak over his shoulders. The window wasn't quite big enough for him to climb out easily, so first held the broom out the window. Then he flung his body out and as he fell to the ground he had to maneuver the broom under him. A short distance from the ground he was properly mounted and pulled his broom towards the sky. Up in amongst the clouds he adjusted the cloak so as to cover his body and the broom entirely.

After a while he realized he had to figure out what direction to fly. Looking down to the streets below, he shifted his body to the right. It didn't take long to reach the Ministry of Magic Headquarters.

He landed softly in the grass away from pedestrians. It was the middle of the day now and Harry found it hard to weave his way the people. Reaching the battered old telephone booth he walked in and shut the door. Harry set his broom aside and dialed six two four four two.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business," a man's voice asked politely.

"Neville Longbottom and I'm lost," that was the best lie Harry could think off.

"Thank you," replied the man's voice calmly. "Please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robe." Harry scooped up his badge from the coin return. It read, 'Neville Longbottom, Floo Network Authority.' Harry stuck it to his inner robe, but remained hidden inside his invisibility cloak. He felt the booth descended quickly and smoothed to a halt at the atrium.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant afternoon," said the man's voice as Harry exited the lift.

Harry was surprised to see how different the Atrium looked during the day. Many wizards rushed about. Wizards flooed in on the left and then departed on the right. They were so quick, Harry now understood why there were separate sides for coming and going.

Reaching the golden gates, Harry contemplated waiting in line to have his wand registered. But then he figured under his invisibility cloak he could just sneak past security. Harry recognized the security guard on duty by his badly shaven face and peacock blue robes. But Eric Munch looked thoroughly distracted out due to the high amount of people present. To be safe, he passed under the gates at exactly the same time as a rather large man dressed in red robes.

"Mr. Latus, please could you step over here," Eric Munch asked politely. As two more security wizards appeared out of nowhere. Harry paused momentarily as he watched the fat man being led to an antechamber, he felt a bit sorry for the man. But then Harry turned and continued to the lift. Several other wizards climbed in with him so he had to make himself as skinny as possible in the back corner. He waited till the others all got to their destinations and once alone he pressed the button for level nine.

Stepping out of the lift Harry remembered exactly how to get to the veil. He didn't see any guards, but then remembered one might be hiding under an invisibility cloak like he was. So he walked quietly over to the nearest corner and waited for any hint of the guard. Harry was about to give up and continue on to the veil, but the lift doors opened up and two guards stepped out.

"Jo, have you seen anyone?" asked a tall skinny man. He didn't look much older than Harry did. The shorter guard looked a little bit older, but his eyes darted around the room as if expecting a death eater to leap out an attack him.

"No, I haven't seen anyone," replied Jo from somewhere across the room. She sounded more confident than the others did.

"But I thought that someone got off here," the tall man spoke quickly, as if afraid he would get reprimanded. "I-"

"Hush," Jo commanded, "He's under an invisibility cloak, try to find him."

Both men looked absolutely terrified, but they stretched out their arms and felt the air. Meanwhile Jo remained concealed as well, obviously she was waited for Harry to be discovered so that she could attack. Harry felt sorry for the other men, in a way they were just bait.

"What do we do when we find him?" muttered the shorter man.

The taller man brushed a hand across Harry's robe and grasped the light fabric.

"Arrest him," answered Jo before Harry was revealed.

"Stupefy," Harry yelled as he pointed his wand in the direction of the woman's voice. A red bolt of light was hurled across the room. He knew he hit his target because he heard a body thud and some feet appeared out of nowhere.

"He's just a boy," said the shorter man as the other pulled off Harry's invisibility cloak.

Harry turned his wand towards the short man and said, "Petrificus totalus." The man's body became rigid and fell backwards.

"Expelliarmus," shouted the taller man. Harry felt his wand leap out of his hand. But he didn't need his wand. He lunged at the man and knocked him over. Running to the plan black door at then end of the corridor he slipped into the room before the man could curse him.

He was back in the familiar the dark circular room filled with a dozen other doors. The room became black save the blue flames along the walls. He closed his eyes as the room spun around. He knew it was no point to watch he could pick out the correct door later, he knew it. But this time, the spinning room made his feet unbalanced and he fell to the floor.

He stood up quickly, he knew the guard would be following behind. But when he got up, he didn't know which direction he was facing. He had no way to tell which direction was forward and which was back. "Oh crap, what do I do now?" Harry moaned.

"Oh just try a few doors," he answered, "you'll know the right way when you see it."

Harry walked over and pushed the cool door open with his left hand while holding his wand ready in his right. Although Harry knew he hadn't seen this hall the last time he was here, he recognized it instantly. A long corridor stretched before him, with identical white doors. A part of Harry knew that this was the wrong way, it wasn't they way he'd gone before. But the other part egged him on, it was just like his dream and in his dream he got Sirius back.

A door across the circular room opened "Wait boy, you don't-" the man shouted, but Harry ignored him and stepped out into the hallway.

When Harry closed the door he found himself completely out of sorts. The door behind him now extended into a long hallway and in the other direction Harry could see no end. Scared, he tried to open a few of the doors, but they all lead into another identical hallway.

"You've done this before," he reminded himself.

"Right," he said. "The door is at the end of the hall, I will find it eventually." Harry turned and started sprinting down the hall. He didn't know how long he was running; but he was breathing hard now. Surely it didn't take this long before; he was beginning to think he'd never see the end. But as he did, he ran straight into the wall falling backwards on his butt. "It's exactly the same," Harry exclaimed, adjusting his glasses as he stood. He reached out to twist the doorknob, but was surprised to see that the door didn't have a sign reading 'mysterious veil.' He didn't see a sign at all; in fact he wasn't sure he was even looking at a door.

He tried to pull his hand away from it. But something had latched onto his wrist. He attempted to twist away, but as he did more things lashed out at him until he was pinned to the wall. Harry let his legs relax below him, but his body didn't fall. He felt his life begin to suck out of him, much like with the dementors, but this was worse, much worse. Even though his mind was filled will fear and desperation, he heard a dark cackling laughter escape his lips.

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Harry didn't know how long he was there. He felt his body slip down the wall. All of his energy was drained from his body, making him seem smaller somehow. Fighting to keep his eyes open he watched footsteps approach him. A woman in long deep blue robes walked towards him. She had her wand raised and was saying some series of enchantments, but Harry couldn't make out the words.

"The Aurum Duco Pendant," she exclaimed. "I wonder…" but her voice trailed off. After securing a glove on her hand she slipped the pendant off of Harry's head.

_No!_ he though, and tried to grab it from her. As it was lifted over his head Harry felt a heavy weight lift from his mind.

Jo didn't pay any attention to him. She sat the pendant down on the ground a few feet away and enchanted some spell. A thin clear pouch surrounded the pendant, picking it up, Jo handed the pouch over to the short man. "Brevis, gather up all of his belongings."

"Yes ma'am," he answered.

Jo turned back to Harry and started wrapping his cloak around his shoulders_. Why is my cloak so big?_ he thought. She made the cloak so tight that he couldn't move his arms or legs. But he found that he didn't really mind it, he felt more secure that way. She scooped him up and started carrying him out of the room. He was surprised to see all the clocks. Suddenly he realized where he was, but then thought, _how did I get into the time room?_

Handing Harry over to the tall man, Jo said, "Will, take baby Neville to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Tell them he just tried breaking into the Department of Mysteries. Brevis will be there shortly to turn in all his belongings."

Harry's heart sank; he was now beginning to realize the gravity of the situation. He didn't know why, but for some reason his whole body fit easily into the Will's arms. And now he was being carted off to the Aurors for trespassing. But that was actually the least of his worries. He remembered Snape now, falling to his knees- what had become of Snape?

"Don't you think the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes would be better?" Will suggested.

"There's nothing they can do for him," Jo plainly explained.

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Will carried Harry all the way to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There he handed Harry over to some clerk that reminded him of Aunt Marge. She wore pastel robes covered in a floral pattern. Her face was covered in a thick layer of makeup. After Will filled out some forms, he left. The witch put Harry down next to some other files and boxes like he was a random confiscated item. He didn't know what to do, so he just sat there wrapped up in his robe.

_Baby Neville_, he remembered. Surely by now they figured out he was Harry, with the scar after all. But then he pondered the 'baby' comment. What did they mean baby, he knew he was smaller, but a baby.

Later Brevis came by to drop off Harry's things. The witch put down the box of belongs next to Harry. Harry recognized his wand sticking out of the box. He wanted to get it, so he started wiggling. The robe swaddled him tightly, but as he moved it became loose. First his right hand broke free, wiggling some more he got his left hand free and then he freed his feet. He tried to stand up, but his shirt was too long and he tripped over it. He struggled to crawl forward; the wand was so close. But he was hopelessly tangled in his shirt.

"I'm here for the baby," commanded a voice that made Harry freeze. Harry looked up towards the man and saw Snape's face glaring back. He looked beyond livid, murderous in fact.

"First he needs to be processed and then of course a formal investigation will follow," the woman drawled on. That sounded good to Harry, whatever kept Snape at bay. He felt fine right where he was.

"Look," Snape said, "He's a student of mine-"

"So where's Neville?" squealed an approaching woman. Judging by the green robes, fox fur scarf, the hat with a stuffed vulture and the tacky red handbag, Harry knew exactly who the woman was, Neville's gran. "I let him go to Diagon Alley on his own and he goes and gets himself lost."

"I'm sorry ma'am," the witch behind the desk explained, "Neville is going to have to stay here until he's processed and the ministry has decided what do to with him."

Snape tried to speak, but Augusta Longbottom cut him off, "He most certainly is not. Neville is a minor under my care, therefore he is coming with me." The clerk looked as though she didn't know what to say. Harry could see why Neville was afraid of crossing his grandmother. Just then Augusta caught a glance at Harry, "What, who is that," she stammered.

"Your grandson," the witch piped in, "He broke into the Department of Mysteries and turned himself into a baby."

"But that looks nothing like Neville," she said.

"It's not Neville," Snape explained.

"Really," said the witch in a snotty voice. "Then why does he have a name badge that reads Neville Longbottom?"

"Perhaps the child lied," Snape said, glaring at the witch as if she were nothing more than a hindrance.

"Would- whatever happened to him- would it cause Neville to look different?" asked Augusta ignoring Snape completely.

"Well it made him a baby," the witch suggested.

Snape rolled his eyes and gritting his teeth, he said, "That is not Neville Longbottom." He looked ready to leap over the counter, snatch Harry up and run away.

"Well then, who is he?" the witch shot back.

"A student of mine," Snape said, but he looked like he was failing to come up with a random name.

"Can I be of assistance?" asked Kingsley Shacklebolt, Harry knew the man instantly. Kingsley glanced at Harry momentarily, but Harry couldn't tell if the man recognized him.

"Yes sir," the witch spoke quickly. "They say that they want to take the baby, but he's a suspect. He just broke in to the Department of Mystery, attacking a couple guards in the process." She stopped speaking in order to gasp in a breath, but before she could continue, Kingsley held up his hand to silence her.

"I've read the briefing," he clarified.

"I just want my grandson back," Augusta interjected.

"That's not Neville Longbottom," Snape replied.

"Then who is it?" the witch argued back.

"Ronald Weasley," Snape said.

"Oh ye-"

"That's enough," Kingsley said to the witch as he picked up Harry. "I will take care to see that Ronald is brought back to his father. Arthur Weasley will be able to supply the boy when he's needed." He sat Harry down on the counter while he signed some release papers. Harry clung to his arm in case Snape found it convenient to snatch him away. He knew Snape was going to kill him, the professor looked angrier than Harry had ever seen before.

"Harry," a voice behind Snape gasped. Arthur Weasley had walked up behind the group.

"That's not Harry," Snape snapped.

"Right…" Arthur said looking at Snape for some sort of silent explanation. He looked at Augusta and then back at Snape. "That's um, Neville… Neville Longbottom."

"See, he doesn't even recognize his own son," blurted out the witch.

"Oh right," Arthur said, scooping up Harry and holding him on his hip. "Didn't recognize you son. But of course," Arthur began rustling the hair on Harry's head, "you're hair didn't turn red till you were a bit older. So Ron, he must of made a mistake again, in his potion lesson… You see Severus has been tutoring my son, in potions. Ron's had a hard time with potions. Really good of you Severus; to tutor him and Harry over the summer. See that's why I got confused at first- "A look from Snape told Arthur to shut up.

"You're free to go Arthur," Kingsley said as he put down the quill. "Severus can explain the situation while I get everything settled in the office. Here you can have his personal affects as well."

"But that's evidence," the clerk whined.

Snape carried Harry's box while Arthur carried him. They both walked away to the lifts.

Once they were alone, Arthur asked, "Can you tell me what's going on?"

"Not here," Snape answered.

"Would you like to take… er, my son back to his lesson," Arthur was trying to pass Harry over to Snape, but Harry clung tightly. "I'm sure you have an antidote."

"No I don't have an antidote," Snape replied coolly.

"But you can make one?" Arthur asked.

"I don't know," Snape replied.

Whether he realized it or not, Arthur had started patting Harry on the back. It was amazingly calming and Harry found it hard to stay awake. They reached the Atrium and walked quietly over to the floo.

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When Harry woke up he was a little disoriented. Looking around he realized he was lying on a cushy pad on the table in the basement of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. It looked like Order members were gathering for a meeting, but hadn't begun yet.

Harry started to shiver, he felt really cold. Someone lifted him up by then ankles. _What were they doing?_ he thought. He looked up and saw Molly Weasley standing over him. She let his feet go and was securing something around his waist.

"There you go dear, a self cleaning diaper," Molly chimed, "really one of the best advances in wizardry." She continued to say more, but Harry had heard enough. Horrified he struggled to get free; he had been naked in the middle of the room. Molly was too strong for him though, and was now putting some little outfit on him. "Calm down dear, you'll be done in no time."

'Let me go!' he tried to shout. But all that came out of his mouth was some garbled baby noises. Molly shoved Harry into a pastel blue body suit complete with little booties and then set him on the floor. He crawled away quickly and hid under the table.

"Poor baby," he heard Molly say. "He's afraid of me, doesn't know who I am."

"Where's Harry," he heard Dumbledore ask as he stepped out of the floo.

"Under the table," Arthur informed.

Harry saw Dumbledore stoop to look under the table. He reached out to pick up the baby, but Harry backed away. Escaping Dumbledore's reach, Harry felt pleased with himself until Arthur picked him up from behind. He was about to throw a fuss, but realized he was dangerously close to Snape. Arthur walked Harry over to Mrs. Weasley and tried to hand Harry back.

"No," he said, finding a word that he could speak.

"Oh look, he likes you Arthur," Molly said patting Harry on the head.

Arthur sat down at the table opposite Snape. Dumbledore sat to his right and Molly to his left. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Professor McGonagall, and the woman Harry recognized as Jo ended their discussion and sat down as well.

Dumbledore spoke first, "How did this happen." He was looking towards Snape for an explanation, as if Snape were a boy.

Snape looked furious, but spoke in a controlled manner. "Potter attacked me, threw old cauldrons at me till one shattered. The potion was quite toxic and effected me quickly. Had I not managed to crawl over to my bag and retrieve the potion, Harry would be a murderer." Everyone stared at Harry; he was so ashamed that he buried his head under Arthur's arm.

"I'm sure Harry didn't intend to murder you, he-," Dumbledore replied.

Snape cut Dumbledore off, "Potter went crazy with anger and even started talking to himself." Snape's face grew red with anger; he was on the verge of losing his composure. "Something is wrong with him. You can't push it aside and label this as 'the poor boy's grieving.' I won't stand for it."

Dumbledore smiled, as if attempting to cool Snape's anger. But before he could speak, a quiet voice across the room interrupted him.

"If I may sir," Jo said politely. "The boy was wearing the Aurum Duco Pendant."

"What?" Snape snapped.

"It's in the box of his belongings there," she pointed to the box in the center of the table. Harry had been so busy listening to the adults that he hadn't noticed it. After mention of the pendant he started squirming restlessly. Arthur helped him up so he could stand in his lap.

Snape burrowed through the box until he pulled out Harry's pendant. Studying it, his face turned from anger to a bit less angry.

"What's the Aurum Duco Pendant?" Molly asked.

Snape spoke calmly, "it's an ancient dark artifact. It causes insanity to whoever wears it. Exaggerating their emotions, it causes them to hear and see things that aren't really there."

"So that's why Harry attacked you?" Molly asked.

"Yes, Potter doesn't like me," Snape explained. He gave Dumbledore a look that said, 'I told you I was the wrong one to be watching Harry,' but instead he continued explaining, "that feeling was built up until he was able to kill."

Harry was now sitting on the table; slowly he managed to inch his way on until Arthur gave up restraining him.

"That also explains why he broke into the Department of Mysteries," Dumbledore said sounding relieved. "His hoped to rescue Sirius…" Dumbledore was still speaking, but Harry couldn't hear him. He was watching the pendant, which now sat unprotected on the table in front of Snape. He didn't know why, but he wanted to get it back. Quietly he crawled across the table and reached out his hand to take it back. But before he could it was snatched away.

"What is wrong with you Potter?" Snape yelled. The man looked so scary now, looming over him. "You were stupid enough to put on a random dark artifact, I'll believe that. But why would you take it back now, when you know what it does." The look on Snape's face was so harsh that Harry felt his lower lip begin to quiver. "It's not bad enough that you've tried to kill someone and then managed to transfigure yourself into a baby. What would you like to do next?" That was enough, Harry couldn't help it, he started to cry.

"Oh stop Severus," Molly interrupted, "Can't you see you're making him cry?" Snape looked a little bit embarrassed and stopped talking.

Arthur reached across the tabled and picked Harry back up. Harry hid his face against Arthur's chest. He really didn't want anyone to see him cry. He calmed down quickly, but remained sniffling while the others continued to talk.

"I don't understand," McGonagall said. "How did Harry turn himself into a baby?"

"Well I found him in the time room," Jo answered. "From the look of the room, he had been running around in it for awhile."

Everyone looked confused, like they wanted to ask just what Harry was up to. Embarrassed Harry wanted to explain himself. The Department of Mystery didn't look normal to him; all he saw was the hall. He figured that was due to the pendant's effect, causing him to 'see things that aren't really there.' But he couldn't talk, not in a way the adults understood, all that came out of his mouth were random sounds.

Ignoring Harry's attempt at speaking Jo continued, "At some point he knocked over the bell jar and broke it. He let out the, the- well I really don't know what they call it. It was some kind of blue cloud." Kingsley looked over to Jo as if to remind her to stay on topic. "Anyway, I managed to repair the jar and secure the thing inside. But by that time Harry had completely transfigured into a baby."

"How did Harry manage to break his way into the Department of Ministry anyway?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Harry tried to ask 'hey what does that mean.' But it too came out garbled.

"I was stuck with incompetent interns. I half expected one of them to pee their pants," Jo said bitterly. " They couldn't keep their mouth shut and asked me questions till Harry was able to pick out where I was. Besides, Harry has defeated you-know-who how many times now? I really don't find it that appalling." Harry was beginning to like Jo more and more.

"The interns, did they recognize Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, he was too fast," Jo answered. "All they know is some crazed teenager broke in."

"What about others at the ministry," Dumbledore asked looking over at Kingsley.

"The clerk was left thoroughly convinced that the baby was Neville Longbottom," Kingsley answered. "Even after the boy showed up lost a little while later. Augusta Longbottom left, clearly annoyed with her grandson and the whole situation. But I doubt she'll linger on the identity of the baby."

"So no one will suspect Harry. But what about Ron?" Arthur asked, clearly concerned with his son's record.

"Officially all charges have been dropped and the break in at the Department of Mysteries never occurred," Kingsley clarified.

"But what about the interns," Arthur pointed out. "Won't they remember the incident."

"They've both resigned their positions," Kingsley replied.

"Yeah interns don't last there very long," Jo added. "They're all afraid that Death Eaters will return."

Kingsley continued, "all that remains will be rumors. But as far as the Ministry is concerned, nothing has happened unless it has been clearly documented."

"But what if some of the rumors get out to the public," McGonagall asked.

"That is a possibility," Kingsley replied. "But if any rumors spread around about someone turning into a baby, they'll all lead to either Ron or Neville. And people will be able to see that they're fine and well."

Harry didn't understand why they were all relieved, he was used to getting bad publicity. Perhaps Molly didn't want any rumors to spread that tarnished Ron's reputation.

As if sensing Harry's confusion Dumbledore clarified, "No one outside of this room will be told about Harry's condition. We don't want Voldemort to find out about Harry's vulnerability."

Harry had forgotten about Voldemort. He knew the Dark Wizard wanted nothing more than to torture and kill him. But he never really worried about it much. At the moment though, he was feeling particularly helpless and started shaking in fear.

"Is there a way to change him back," Molly asked. Finally someone had asked the question Harry was dying to hear.

But no one answered, not even Dumbledore. Harry looked from one adult to the next, willing them to come up with some ground breaking idea. Glancing at Snape, Harry saw an expression he'd never seen on the man. Was it concern? Suddenly Harry realized that under the stress of the situation he had been sucking on his thumb. He pulled it out of his mouth quickly and tried to look casual.

Finally Snape spoke, "We can try the Age Accelerator Potion. But that would take years to get Harry back to sixteen."

"Well that's something," Molly said attempting to sound optimistic.

"Is there nothing else Severus?" asked McGonagall. "With all your experience you must have come across something."

"There is a possibility," Snape said, but made no attempt to hide his doubts. "In my studies I have come across a theory, but it was sketchy at best. And I would need to do extensive research. Although, in the end I don't know if it will work."

"Well that settles it," Dumbledore exclaimed. "Severus will work on the potion. We'll be able to get Harry back to his sixteen-year-old self before we know it. And in the meantime, Molly can stay here and take care of the baby."

Harry didn't think anything was settled. Dumbledore had a way of being way too hopeful. Harry wasn't ready to get all excited about some random theory. And he definitely wasn't looking forward to being coddled by Molly Weasley. He wanted to slip under the table and die.

Overly excited, Molly leapt out of her chair and rushed over to Harry. "I'm sure you're hungry little Harry. Do you want to eat some nummy nums?"

Authors note:

So, what do you all thing? Any likes/dislikes… feel free to leave a review. (In fact, please do!)

Coming soon:

Chapter 5: Baby Harry


	5. Baby Harry

Chapter 5

Baby Harry

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Harry hadn't been able to listen to anymore of the meeting. Molly had tried to feed him a bottle, but the whole time he screamed, kicked and flailed. Eventually she took him upstairs to the drawing room, apparently he was just to disturbing. Over time he lost the energy to fight back and begrudgingly sucked down the bottle.

The next couple days followed the same basic pattern. Harry sat in some corner looking distraught. Molly would occasionally pick him up and force him to eat or sleep. Between feedings Molly worked on cleaning up the house, Harry had made a really big mess of the place.

She also fixed up a crib for him that included a quidditch mobile. The little players would fly around scoring goals with the quaffle and catching the snitch. One time Harry tried to catch one of the little players, but it slipped freely though his hand. Apparently they were transparent images.

From time to time Harry saw Snape in the house. He wondered why the potion's master was always around. Every time Molly carried Harry into a room containing Snape, he would gather up his belongings and leave.

One particular morning Molly stuffed Harry into this absolutely horrid outfit. He wore a lime green jumpsuit covered with frog pattern. Whenever he crawled around, different frogs would make little 'ribet ribet' sounds. He was busy trying to pull it off while she carried him back down to the kitchen to have his morning bottle.

Snape sat at the table eating a slice of burnt toast. This was the first time Harry ever saw the man eat at Grimmauld Place. But he didn't have time to contemplate the matter; Molly had fixed up his bottled.

"No, no, no," he screamed as Molly shoved the bottle into his face.

"It's okay baby Harry," Molly soothed. "Drink your widdle bottle." He knew it was futile to resist, but he couldn't help but try. The situation was worse now that Snape was there, watching him. Why didn't Snape just leave like he usually did, instead the man got up and looked at the floo, like he was expecting something.

After listening to Harry scream for a couple of minutes Snape finally burst out, "Why don't you spare Potter the humiliation and let him feed himself?"

"He's just a baby," Molly answered, as if clearly Snape had no idea.

"Physically yes," Snape replied. "But obviously he still has his sixteen year old mind."

"Oh I highly doubt that Severus," Molly said. "He's scared of us like he doesn't know who we are. He wants his mummy and daddy."

"In either case, let him feed himself, so we don't have to listen to that infernal screaming anymore." Snape looked back at the floo, like he wanted to get what he needed and then leave the room.

"Well Severus," Molly said, "that's a nice idea, but we don't have a highchair, and it's just not sanitary to have him eating on the floor." Harry had the distinct impression that Molly was just being difficult, she'd rather baby him.

Snape didn't respond, but transfigured the nearest chair into a highchair. Sighing Molly got up, put Harry into the chair, and pushed it close to the table. Sitting the bottle down in front of Harry she waited skeptically for him to eat. Harry wasn't about to willingly drink a bottle so he ignored it.

"See Severus," Molly said, sounding pleased with herself, "he doesn't know what to do." She looked ready to pick Harry back up and feed him. Quickly Harry reached out and grabbed the bottle. Molly stopped and watched him.

Holding up the bottle for her to see, Harry said as clearly as possible, "No." And then with all his strength he tossed the bottle as far as possible. Proud of his cleverness he sat back and watched her retrieve the bottle.

"Harry dear," Molly said calmly. "You need to drink your bottle. If you don't you'll go hungry."

"You could let him eat food," Snape dryly suggested.

Sighing, Molly started preparing Harry some real food. Sitting the plastic plate in front of him, Molly appeared hopeful that Harry would just toss it aside. If he did, she'd probably give up and just force him to drink the bottle again.

Harry wasn't exactly excited by the little bite size bits of overly cooked vegetables and meat chunks, but it was better than a bottle. Taking a bite, he found the food to be bland and nearly tasteless. Worst of all he had to gnaw on it for awhile, with only four teeth, chewing was a bit difficult. He couldn't hide the look of disgust as he ate, but he didn't whine to complain either.

Frustrated Molly spouted, "Since you're such a baby expert Severus, you watch him for awhile. I have cleaning to do." Molly stormed out of the room muttering to herself, "Raised six kids, I have. But no, he thinks he can do better…"

"Yuck," Harry said, pushing the plate away.

"Eat it Harry or I'll call her back," barked Snape.

Harry did as he was told, and after a while Snape sat back down to finish his toast. After Harry finished all of his food he climbed out of his highchair and onto the table. He wanted to get back down to the floor and was busy looking for a safe way to do it.

Just then Hagrid stepped through the floo carrying a small pouch. He didn't seem to notice Harry, and walked straight over to Snape.

"I think I found what yer after Professor," Hagrid said. "It's a little baby so it mighta died on the way 'ere."

Snape stood up quickly and took the pouch out of Hagrid's hands. Gently he pulled out a small plant and examined it. Harry crawled closer to get a better look. 'What is it,' he tried to ask, but muttered a mix of sounds instead.

"Why hullo there 'arry," Hagrid said, picking Harry up and holding him in his hands.

"Hi," Harry said, discovering a new word that he could say.

"Why yeh look jus' like yeh did when I found yeh af'er 'you know who' attacked," Hagrid continued. He brushed his big hand across Harry's forehead and added. "'Cept yer scar's gone."

Harry reached up and felt his forehead. He hadn't realized that his scar was gone. He had grown up used to having it. The scar was a part of him and he never really thought about life without it.

"Well don' yeh go worryin' yerself Harry," Hagrid said as he sat Harry back down on the table. "Snape'll fix yeh up an' you'll be right as rain a'fore know it. 'S Harry did yeh get yer cupcake? I asked Professor Snape to give it to yeh. Sorry I didn' make you a proper cake. But I've been summat busy." Harry blushed when he remembered thinking Snape had given him the cupcake. It had been a really foolish thought; of course Snape hadn't given it to him. "Now I've got ter go, loads ter do. Sorry I can' stay an' chat. G'bye Harry, Professor." Hagrid left back through the floo. Harry had a whole bunch of questions he wanted to ask, but couldn't formulate the words to say them.

Snape had ignored them both and didn't notice when Hagrid left. He sat studying the plant. _How long did he have to look at it,_ Harry thought, it didn't look the special to him. Harry crawled over just the same in order to get a closer look.

Seeming satisfied, Snape gently wrapped his fingers around the plant and rushed upstairs. Harry looked around for an easy way down from the table. Perhaps he could maneuver down onto one of the chairs and then it was only a short distance more till he reached the floor.

Harry lay down on the table and dangled his feet over the edge; he couldn't feel the chair below him. Slowly he scooted back; he didn't want to fall, but he knew that the chair must be there.

Harry heard footsteps come rushing down the stairs, but he couldn't look up to see them. At the moment he felt his fingers slipping as his body fell back.

"Harry," Snape snapped. It was too late, by then Harry was falling backwards. But he didn't fall far; in fact he landed safely on the chair. The momentum was to great though and his legs gave way till he landed on his butt. "Potter, your stupidity has no bounds. Did you know you could have fallen to the ground? I suppose you think a concussion would fit nicely with your condition."

'You're one to talk,' Harry incoherently garbled out, 'I'm not the one that forgot a baby sitting on a table.'

"And now you've managed to alienate Mrs. Weasley. She's busy sulking somewhere in the house," Snape said. He sounded thoroughly annoyed, which was entertaining to Harry to no end. "As such, I'm stuck with you." Snape picked up Harry and carried him upstairs as if he were a quaffle.

All the way up the stairs Harry complained, but of course Snape didn't understand a thing he said. They reached the room Harry recognized as the one he broke into a few days before. "Now sit down and don't move," Snape commanded as he put Harry down.

Snape walked over to his desk and went back to work. He had a small knife and sat dissecting the plant's roots. Meanwhile Harry surveyed the room. Before there had been only one cauldron, but now several were scattered about the room and most of them were brewing something.

Overcome with curiosity Harry stood up and toddled over to the nearest cauldron. He wasn't very steady on his feet, but he managed well enough. He crouched down to get a closer look at the bubbling contents. He couldn't recognize the smell at all, but that didn't really mean much. He leaned in even closer, he thought he saw something odd floating there.

His face was about an inch away when he felt a hand push him backward. "Potter, you obnoxious idiot, must I tell you to stay back from the boiling potion?"

Harry started babbling insults at the man. Even though he knew Snape couldn't understand him, it made Harry feel better. It was just as well Snape couldn't understand him, Harry liked the idea of getting away with insulting the man.

Snape ignored Harry and started adding bits of root to several different potions. Harry was impressed with Snape's ability to multitask, he seemed to be able to stir and monitor each potion simultaneously.

Despite knowing that he was incomprehensible, Harry asked 'what are you brewing Snape?' Again the words came out all garbled, but he was surprised by the sound his attempt at Snape made. It distinctly resembled Snape but without the 's' sound. To make sure, Harry said Snape again and giggled when he heard himself say "nape." Proud of himself, Harry continued to say the name over and over again, "Nape, Nape, Nape." Harry pulled on Snape's robe to get the man's attention. "Nape," he said again.

Rolling his eyes, Snape pulled his robe away from Harry and said, "Congratulations, now shut up." He ignored Harry's sulky look and turned back to his work.

Harry tried to move around Snape in order to see exactly what the man was doing. But Snape continued to step in the way. Frustrated Harry toddled over to another cauldron to look at it instead.

"Perhaps Molly is right," Snape said, sounding aggravated. "Although I don't see much of a difference between you and your sixteen year old self." He picked up baby Harry and carried him away from the cauldrons. Setting Harry back down on the ground, he started constructing an age line and then returned to his work.

Disgruntled Harry looked around for something to do. On his side of the age line there was only bare floor and an open door. So Harry decided to sneak out. He toddled as quietly as possible, but sure enough Snape saw him.

"Potter!" he warned.

But Harry didn't listen. With a squeal he tried to run as fast as his little feet could take him. He went a little too fast and fell to his hands and knees. Not wanting to waste time, he continued in a crawl. Reaching the stairs he climbed up. He was surprised that the potion's master hadn't caught him yet. Once on the next floor he decided to go to his room. Thankfully the door was slightly ajar so he was able to push his way in.

'Hedwig!' he garbled. A few days had passed and he hadn't seen his pet. He was glad to see that his window was still open, so she could go out and hunt whenever she was hungry. But Harry knew she enjoyed an occasional treat and his company. He tried to apologize, but Hedwig remained out of reach. She eyed him curiously, as if contemplating how to respond. 'It's me,' he attempted to explain, but to no avail. He sat down to ponder a way to get to Hedwig, but then she swooped down to get a closer look at him. Excited Harry reacted and crawled over to her, if he could just pet her, she'd know who he was. He reached out his little hand, but Hedwig bit his finger and then flew out of range.

That hurt, bad. Not just the pain of the bite, but that it came from Hedwig. He couldn't hold back the tears and started to cry. Normally he wouldn't be prone to cry so easily, but as a baby it was different.

"Oh not that wailing again Potter," Snape shouted as he entered the room. "Now do I have to tape you to the wall in order to make you stay put?"

"Honestly Severus," Molly said walking into the room. "Is that any way to talk to a baby?" She picked Harry up and tried to comfort him, "Come on Harry, let's get you away from the big meany." Harry pointed at Hedwig and tried to explain the situation. Molly saw his hand at once; a large welt was forming at the site of the bite. "Ah poor dear, I'll take care of that right away."

Molly took Harry back down to the kitchen and applied a cool cloth to his bite. Hedwig followed them down to the basement, she watched Harry intently as if to make sure he was okay. Meanwhile Snape went back to his potion brewing.

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A couple more days passed, things were getting a little bit more tolerable. Harry continued to push Molly away and thankfully she was learning to give him some space. Down in the kitchen she had transfigured a chair into a small table and smaller chair. Now Harry could sit and eat on his own if he was hungry. She also didn't bother Harry with naps. So he would fight to stay awake as long as possible only to wake later in his crib.

Another change was that Snape had brought all of his cauldrons down into the kitchen. The large table provided a lot more space for him to spread out his numerous cauldrons, ingredients and notes. Snape no longer found Harry's presence unbearable, but that was probably due to the fact Harry wasn't being forced to drink bottles anymore.

Hedwig also stayed nearby, although still out of reach. Harry would set out a plate of vegetables to lure her in. But only took the bait when Harry was far enough away that she could eat a few bites and then fly to safety before he managed to toddle back.

One day after a nap he woke up to find a plushie version of Hedwig sitting next to him. At first he was a bit offended. He didn't need some stuffed animal to play with; after all he wasn't a baby. But as Hedwig continued to avoid him, Harry submitted and held onto the plushie instead.

On this same day Snape finished his first potion. Harry was busy eating his green beans while his plushie Hedwig sat in his lap. "Come here Potter, time to figure out how old you are." Harry toddled over, but Snape was impatient so he picked up Harry and carried him. He sat Harry down on the table and administered a series of charms. Half way through Harry remembered he was still holding his plushie, so he hid Hedwig behind his back. He cringed at the realization that as soon as he was sixteen again and back in school, Snape would have endless embarrassing stories to taunt him with.

"What are you doing to him?" Molly asked, her voice full of concern. She had left Harry to eat on his own while she flooed home to check on her family.

"Calm yourself Mrs. Weasley. I've finished the Age Enhancer Potion and I need to figure out how old Harry is."

"Oh you've done it Severus, how wonderful," Molly squealed. She was so excited that she actually clapped.

"I have managed to brew the average Age Enhancer Potion, any half competent potion brewer could do it. Probably even Potter here," Snape drawled on.

"But I thought it was just a theory and you've been doing all this research," Molly said.

Snape spoke, as if he were talking to a first year, "I need to give Harry this potion to see how much it changes his age in order to figure out how concentrated to make the potion in the future. The theory is that you can make the potion strong enough to advance a person's age by a good number of years. But the problem is not killing the person in the process." Snape continued examining Harry, but he was beginning to look frustrated. "Damn it!" he said.

"What's wrong?" Molly asked.

"The spells are failing to detect his age," Snape explained.

"Here let me try," Molly said pulling out her wand. Snape's expression looked past livid, but he stepped aside to let her try. Harry half expected Snape to obliviate Mrs. Weasley's mind if she managed to succeed where he had not. In the end Molly gave up as well. "What are you going to do now Severus?" Her voice sounded forlorn, as if all was lost.

"I suppose I'll have to monitor his growth over a period of a few days," Snape sounded irritated at the prospect of spending yet more time with baby Harry. But after Snape made the decision to continue, he worked fast. "I need a spot of blood," he said as he pricked Harry's index finger with a needle. He held up the cauldron and squeezed Harry's finger till a drop of blood fell in. Satisfied Snape released the little hand. Harry held it close to his body, his baby self wanted to break down and cry. He managed to hold himself together, only his lips quivered. "Now drink it all," Snape commanded as he shoved a cup to Harry's mouth. The liquid tasted so bad that he nearly choked.

"Is it too hot?" Molly asked hovering in the background.

Snape ignored her and examined the cup to make sure all the liquid was gone. Then Snape watched Harry's reaction. _Did he expect to see me grow?_ he wondered. Nothing was happening so Harry attempted to shrug. But then he doubled over from the sudden pain in his stomach. It was absolutely excruciating; he couldn't hold back his cries of pain. He nearly fell off the table, but Snape caught him and handed him over to Molly. He looked ready to walk away and continue brewing more potions.

"What's wrong with him?" Molly demanded. She held Harry close and was patting his back in attempt to calm him.

"His stomach is a little sensitive," Snape casually explained. Molly gave him a harsh look. "In a little while he'll be just fine."

A little while turned out to be an exaggeration. Harry sat in Molly's lap, clutching his Hedwig and trying not to move, he thought he might sick up. After what seemed like an eternity he felt his stomach muscles begin to relax and slowly the pain faded away.

Molly noticed Harry's rigid body begin to move, "Are you feeling better dear?" Sort of, he wanted to explain, his stomach still hurt, it was just bearable now. But in the end he just nodded. "Are you hungry? It's been awhile since you've eaten. A bottle would make your stomach feel much better."

"No," Harry said, climbing off her lap and backing away.

"I'm not going to make you," Molly said. "But trust me, it will help you stomach a lot." She went and prepared a bottle for him. Meanwhile Harry went and hid under the table. "Now I'm just going to leave this here," she announced, setting the bottle down on the on his little table. "Whether you drink it or not, it's up to you." She disappeared upstairs, presumably to do more cleaning.

Harry had no intention what so ever to drink that bottle. His stomach grumbled in protest, he was hungry, but food seemed repulsive. Slowly he crept out from under the table; maybe it wouldn't hurt to try the bottle. He looked around to make sure Snape was busy. The man was engrossed in another book and was scribing some notes. Quickly Harry sprinted over, grabbed the bottle and slipped back under the table.

Lying on his back he waited for Snape to insult him, but after hearing nothing he stuck the bottle in his mouth. Molly was right; it did make him feel better. As the pain in his stomach disappeared he realized how tired he was. His eyelids became heavy till he could no longer hold back the sleep.

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When he woke up next he was surprised to find himself still under the table. From sleeping on the stone floor he got so cold that his hand and lips were tinted blue. Usually Molly would have moved him to his crib, but for some reason she hadn't this time. Harry crawled out from under the table, leaving the empty bottle, but carrying Hedwig close. He looked around for Molly, but she wasn't in the kitchen. Snape was still busy working on his various potions; did the man ever take a break?

"Nape?" Harry asked, pulling on the potion master's robe. 'Not that I'm complaining, but where's Mrs. Weasley.'

"I don't speak infant," Snape replied, turning back to his work.

Frustrated Harry decided to go look for her on his own. He crawled up the stairs and then toddled to the room that had his crib. No one was there so he looked in the room where Molly had been staying. She wasn't there either. Harry tried to call out for her, even though he was just making random sounds.

"Can't you stay contained," Snape snapped entering the room.

'How come Mrs. Weasley isn't here?' Harry garbled, shrugging his shoulders.

Even though Snape was oblivious to Harry's question he said, "Molly had to rush home to care for her idiot son. He managed to fall off of his broom playing quidditch and now he's held up with some broken bones and a concussion."

'Which son,' Harry tried to ask. Snape had picked up Harry and was now carrying him back downstairs, again like he was a quaffle. Harry continued trying to inquire, 'Are you talking about Ron? I mean Mrs. Weasley has a whole bunch of sons.'

Back down in the kitchen Snape continued, "Now you, stay." He put Harry back down on the floor. "Eat, sleep, I don't care, but stay down here." Snape went back to his work again and Harry sat.

He was so bored, as a baby there wasn't much to do. Harry decided to try and see what Snape was doing, so he climbed up onto one of the chairs. From there he stood and was able to see Snape's work sprawled out across the table, he was astonished by how messy it was.

'You'd kill us if we ever made such a big mess of our workstation at school,' Harry incoherently mumbled.

"Down," Snape commanded.

"No!" Harry shouted back. But he lost his nerve as Snape advanced at him and scurried down. After Snape was distracted and a safe distance away, Harry crawled back up on the chair. Whether or not Snape noticed, Harry didn't know. For a while Harry watched in silence as the man added various ingredients to the different potions. Harry had to admit Snape was good at what he did, monitoring all the potions at the same time. For Harry one potion was hard enough. But then one of the potions started boiling over. "Uh oh," Harry said pointing over to the cauldron.

Looking annoyed Snape said, "I know what I'm doing." He tossed a seed into the cauldron and instantly the boiling calmed. "Now get down Potter!"

'But there's nothing else to do,' Harry tried to complain.

As if sensing his statement Snape took out his wand and commanded, "Accio Potter's trunk." The trunk came flying down the stairs and thudded to the floor. "Now go and entertain yourself."

Harry climbed off of his chair and toddled over to his trunk. The lid was too heavy. "Nape-" Harry started to ask just as the lid flew open on its own. Harry pushed his little chair over and crawled up on it so he could get to the trunk's contents.

The very first thing he found was his invisibility cloak. A twisted smile crossed his face as he contemplated a wicked plan. He looked up quickly to see if Snape noticed and then grabbed his cloak. He slipped across the room as quietly as possible and then sat down to cover himself. Watching Snape, he waited.

A few minutes passed before Snape glanced around the room. "Potter," he shouted. Snape muttered to himself as he looked under the table and in the trunk. Harry couldn't help but giggle. But that was a bad idea. Snape honed in on the sound and walked over to Harry. Pulling off the cloak Snape said, "You insufferable pain."

Smiling Harry garbled back, 'What you said to entertain myself.'

Snape however wasn't amused, "Perhaps I should just accio your crib and leave you in there all day."

Suddenly the situation wasn't so funny anymore. "No," Harry said, holding his head down.

"Then stop being so annoying!" Snape shouted. He pocketed Harry cloak and walked away. Snape was just like his Aunt and Uncle; he knew what would happen next if he continued to be in the way. Harry toddled over and picked up his Hedwig plushie. Hugging it closely he laid down on the floor.

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Later that day Molly returned and yelled at Snape for making Harry lay on the cold stone floor. The she apologized to Harry, explaining that Ron had injured himself and was going to need a lot of her attention too. So from then on Molly only flooed in to make sure Harry was alive and well.

As a result Harry started waking up in his crib once again, although now it was down in the kitchen. Harry never saw Snape sleep, but he knew the man had to at some point or another.

Snape was getting a bit more lax about Harry's presence. He allowed Harry to watch the potions brewing as long as Harry didn't touch anything. Also Snape mixed Harry's potion in with some baby formula. He left the bottle on Harry's small table and instructed him to make sure the contents disappeared.

Harry discovered that he could still read, but was unable to maneuver a quill to write. So he decided to study his potions book in order to be ready to write his essays later. He knew that Snape would still expect all of his summer course work complete, despite the fact he had spent a couple weeks as a baby.

Every time Molly dropped by Harry was either studying his potions book or watching Snape brew. Over time she came less and less, because she wasn't really needed there anymore, or so he thought.

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For the first time as a baby he had a dream. _Harry was hiding behind a big cushy couch. Not out of fear, but in playfulness._

_"I can't find Harry anywhere," his father's voice sarcastically declared. Harry couldn't help but snigger. "There you are! I'm gonna getcha." Harry squealed and ran away. But his father caught him and started tickling his sides. He giggled uncontrollably and tried to get away._

_"James, it's time for Harry to go to bed," he heard his mum call from the other room._

_"Oh all right," his dad replied smiling. He scooped Harry up lovingly and said, "Time for bed Harry."_

_"No," Harry replied. But he didn't fight; rather he laid his head down on his dad's shoulder. He felt so safe and secure; he didn't ever want to leave the man's embrace. Although he clung on tightly, his dad was pulling him away, to put him down. "No, no!" he protested._

_Someone grabbed him from behind. "It's time for bed Harry," his mum's soft voice soothed. Riveted by her, he let go of his dad and relaxed into his mother's lap. _

_"I love you Harry," his dad said, leaning down to give him a kiss. "Good night."_

_"Da da," he squealed in reply. He reached out his little finger to touch his dad's nose. It was his way of saying 'I love you too.' After rustling Harry's hair, his dad left the room._

_Harry leaned against his mum and let her loving warmth radiate through him. She pulled up a book and started reading it to him. He loved hearing her voice as it changed between characters._

_"Dat," Harry would say pointing to the pictures. Full of patience and understanding she would name each character. She didn't get annoyed with the constant questions. He was getting tired now and started sucking his thumb. His mum was rocking him and gently stroking his hair back. Harry felt filled with love, unconditional love, he wanted to stay in that moment forever._

_She lifted his limp body down into the crib. "I love you Harry," she said as she bent down to kiss his head. Harry relaxed and let his body drift off to sleep. He knew his mum and dad would always be there for him. He knew he was safe._

_A loud bang startled him awake. He stood up in his crib and waited for his mum and dad to come and comfort him._

_"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off--," he heard his dad shout._

_His mum rushed through the door, picked up Harry and held him close. For a moment he didn't hear anything but his mum's rapid heart beat. But then he heard another loud bang and felt his mum's body waver under the force of the blast. The cackle of high-pitched laughter filled the room. She put Harry down and turned to defend him._

_"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" his mother begged._

_"Stand aside you silly girl," the evil voice commanded calmly, "stand aside now."_

_"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead---"_

_"Avada Kedavra," said a voice that chilled him to the bone. Even as he saw the green burst of light, heard his mum's horrified scream and watched her body flop to the floor, he didn't understand what was going on._

_The evil man loomed over him, studying him. Harry stared innocently back, he didn't know to be afraid. "Avada Kedavra," he heard the man say again. He watched the green flash hit his forehead and then a blinding pain in his head._

_For a moment he lost consciousness, when he woke again, his head hurt. He wanted his mum; she could make things better. He crawled over to her body that was sprawled out oddly on the floor._

_"Mum," he said shaking her arm. "Mum!" he said a bit louder. He didn't understand why she wouldn't wake up. His head was really starting to hurt now. He stretched out his hand and lightly touched his mum's face. But she didn't move and the pain in his forehead was getting unbearable. He lay down as close to her as possible, to feel her loving warmth again. But something was wrong… he started to cry._

His blood curdling screams echoed through the house. He was fully aware now of what was wrong with his mum. It was such a horrific realization; feelings of loss and pain filled him. Although it had been sixteen years, it felt as if she died only a moment ago. He screamed for her, he wanted her back. He was scared, he didn't know where he was, and his head ached with a pain stronger than ever before.

"Potter, what's the matter with you?" Snape shouted entering the room. _Snape_, he remembered the potions and the kitchen… but where was he now… definitely not in the kitchen anymore. He didn't dwell on it, all he could think about was his mum, laying sprawled out on the floor. He started gagging, he thought he might sick up. "Lumos," he heard Snape command.

"Mumma," he tried to explain. But the light augmented his pain; he had to look away.

He heard Snape gasp. Had he ever heard the man react like that before? Snape picked up Harry and carried him like a baby down the stairs. Harry used his hands to cover his eyes; the whole world was blurry. Cold fingers gently smoothed a potion over his scar. Only it wasn't a scar now, more like wound. Slowly the pain slipped away and Harry could breath more regularly.

"Is that better Harry?" Snape asked, looking down at him.

Physically Harry felt better, but the images of his mum filled his mind. "Mumma," he cried, trying once again to explain.

Snape looked uneasy, as if unsure what to do. Finally he held up his wand and commanded, "Accio stuffed Hedwig." Snape stuck Harry down on the floor and shoved Hedwig into his arms. "Um, Molly should be around in the morning," he added quickly.

Harry sat there and shivered. He looked around the room nervously expecting Voldemort to pop out of nowhere and attack again. He felt scared, alone and cold. He wanted to be held, to feel his mother's warmth again.

He got up and toddled back over to Snape and pulled on the edge of his robe.

"What do you want?" Snape asked, but not in his usual harsh tone, he just sounded a bit uncomfortable.

"Up, up," Harry pleaded. Snape obliged and picked him up. Harry leaned closely and put his head on the man's shoulder. He didn't care that it was Snape, he was desperate. He wanted anybody to care. Harry mumbled on endlessly, trying to describe the dream. He knew most of what he said was unintelligible, but surely Snape understood the frequent mention of his mum and dad.

Surprisingly enough Snape didn't cast him away. In fact he started patting him on the back, mimicking Arthur's previous example. The pats were awkward at first, but settled into a rhythmic pattern after awhile. Harry would drift off to sleep only to be jolted awake when Snape tried to slip him back into his crib. Then he would cling tightly, so that Snape wouldn't leave him. Eventually Snape gave up trying to return Harry to his crib. Instead he sat down and cradled Harry throughout the rest of the night.

Authors note:

So I tried to keep everyone in character… I know that I'm starting to change some personalities, but I hope that the transition is believable. If you have any suggestions please let me know… Oh and I must mention, I had a difficult time with Hagrid's dialect, so I need to give Nefla credit, she helped a lot.

Small update (2 hours after originally publishing the chapter). I realized that in the books J.K. Rowling had already described (in PoA) the final words spoken by both James and Lily (when Voldemort was there). So I added those in, they are her words, not mine and therefore deserve the credit.

Coming soon:

Chapter 6: Snape's Punishment


	6. Snape's Punishment

Chapter 6

Snape's Punishment

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The next morning when Harry woke up, he felt completely drained. As if over the course of one night he had lost everything. The death of his mum and dad felt fresh, like someone had stabbed him in the heart and took a chunk of it. Bitterly he realized that his heart would never be whole again, no one would love him like they had.

He had been close once, to finding love. Sirius wanted to take him in, raise him as a son. With a rush of guilt Harry gasped, he hadn't thought about Sirius at all, not since he had changed into a baby. Harry realized how absolutely self centered he had been. He didn't think about anyone but himself. All at once he started to worry, he hadn't heard much about how Remus or Hagrid were doing. And he hadn't received a single owl from any of his friends, or the DA members, which was certainly very odd.

_What if Voldemort got them too_, Harry thought suddenly. His body started to shake as his eyes darted around the room. He studied the shadows; afraid someone might pop out and attack.

Below him Snape shifted, his grip around Harry's body tightened. Harry felt comforted and ashamed all at once. He wanted to run away and hide from the shame of needing to be held. But at the same time he wanted to cling tighter, too afraid to be left alone. He felt so utterly vulnerable, standing stark naked at dinner in the great hall would pale in comparison. He tried not to glance up at Snape's face, the last thing he need to see was the man's look of menacing disgust.

"Harry," Snape said uncomfortably, "Do you need something? … A bottle perhaps?"

Harry's head jerked as he turned abruptly to study Snape's face. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think he'd hear such a comment out of the Potion Master's mouth. Snape looked down at Harry curiously, as if trying to figure him out. Harry didn't respond; he didn't know what to do, the situation was just too awkward.

Snape shifted, apparently to put Harry back down on the ground. But in a panic Harry blurted out, "No!" Unexpectedly Snape stopped and pulled Harry even closer. Harry blushed and tried to bury his face under the man's arm.

"Severus!" he heard Molly's alarmed voice call. Harry looked over to the floo where he saw Molly Weasley approaching. "What happened? Did he get hurt?" Harry watched Molly study him. As her eyes settled on the scar she gasped loudly. "What-"

Snape cut her off, but spoke calmly, "During the night Potter woke up screaming in pain. Apparently as his body ages, old wounds return." Snape didn't elaborate on the night, the hours Harry spent crying for his mum. For this Harry was grateful. As much as he needed comfort he didn't want to be coddled or pitied.

"We should call an Order meeting!" Molly asserted.

"That is a bit of an overreaction Mrs. Weasley," Snape replied. "But of course the decision is Albus Dumbledore's"

"Have you informed him then?" Molly asked as she paced back and forth nervously. She acted as though she felt Harry might drop dead at any moment. Thankfully she didn't try and pick him up, but that was probably due to the fact Harry had wrapped his arms tensely around Snape's arm.

"Yes of course," Snape assured her, "I sent an owl last night." Harry didn't remember this, although that didn't mean much considering the state he was in. Looking around Harry didn't see Hedwig.

"But that could take ages," Molly complained.

Before Snape could respond another figure stepped out of the floo. "Severus, when you need my assistance you should send your patronus," Dumbledore chided. He stopped talking at once when he noticed the scar on Harry's forehead. Having more self-control he didn't gasp as Molly did. "Curious, I thought Harry would be free of that."

Dumbledore reached out to touch Harry's forehead. Knowing it would hurt; Harry leaned back closer to Snape. At this Dumbledore looked surprised. He glanced up at Snape for some sort of explanation. Harry felt Snape shrug.

_What? I didn't want you to touch my forehead, it hurts_, Harry wished he could explain. But then Harry understood why Dumbledore was surprised; it was a bit odd for Harry to snuggle up close to Snape. Embarrassed Harry tried to scoot away, to be as far from Snape as possible, but still safe on the man's lap.

"What are we going to do?" Molly asked direly.

"The topical Pain Draught seems to be working just fine," Snape curtly replied.

"Severus," Dumbledore scolded and then continued with a question. "Will increasing Harry's potion strength make him live through other injuries as well?"

Harry twitched; he didn't like the sound of that. "I don't know," Snape replied, "but so far this is the only one we have seen. I doubt a child as clumsy as Potter would have lasted long without some sort of fall or scratch."

"He hasn't gotten any injuries here," Molly pointed out.

"Alas we will have to take the risk," Dumbledore explained, "as there is no other option." After a brief moment of silence he added in a much happier tone, "shall we have breakfast?"

At that everyone got up and walked over to the table. Snape carried Harry with a bit more distance as if he didn't care to be caught with a baby. Molly had brought along a basket full of food and pulled out a steaming pot of oatmeal.

Snape quickly slipped Harry into his highchair and attempted to walk away. Harry grabbed a bit of Snape's robe and held on tightly. Staring up at Snape Harry's eyes gave the man a look that pleaded for him to stay.

"Headmaster?" Snape asked, sounding uncomfortable. Harry didn't hear Dumbledore reply, but suddenly Snape's demeanor changed. This was a Snape Harry recognized. The man looked down at him with sheer annoyance and swatted at his hand as though Harry was some disgusting bug.

Instantly Harry let go and turned away. He covered his face with his hands afraid he might cry. Snape stalked away and disappeared up the stairs.

"Harry," Dumbledore comforted, "Professor Snape needs some time to compose himself."

Harry regained control and tried to look impartial. He didn't want anyone to notice that for a moment he actually thought Snape might have cared for him. Molly sat down a plastic bowl full of oatmeal and handed him a small plastic spoon. Clumsily Harry started to eat as the others sat down to eat as well. They had to scoot some of Snape's potions across the table in order to provide enough space.

"How is Ronald doing?" Dumbledore politely asked.

"Oh he's been well for awhile now," Molly answered. "Soon he and Ginny will be leaving for Romania to visit Charlie."

"So you'll be free to spend more time here?"

"Yes," Molly sighed. "Please don't misunderstand," she added quickly, "I care deeply for Harry. It's just… He doesn't seem to want me around." Molly sounded hurt. This made Harry feel bad, he knew that Molly cared about him, and he had been increasingly rude to her.

"You will try," Dumbledore implored.

"Yes of course," Molly replied. Harry noticed that they both reached an agreement about something that remained unspoken. He was curious to find out what, but before he could mumble a question Snape returned.

The Potion Master appeared to have just showered. His hair was combed back and his black robes were pressed. Harry recognized now why Snape was so desperate to leave. He didn't give it much thought before, but Snape had been in his pajamas, with only a wrinkled robe to cover them. His hair had been messy and his feet were in socks. Surely his ego was thoroughly bruised; Harry liked the company.

Snape ignored the others and pulled out a small plate of burnt toast from Mrs. Weasley's basket. He ate standing while he checked over his potions. Harry ignored him and started to drink his juice out of a sippy cup.

After breakfast Molly went home to explain things to her family. Before Dumbledore excused himself, he pulled Snape aside. As if Harry were deaf, or perhaps being a baby had certain privileges, Dumbledore openly scolded Snape.

"You must remain focused," Dumbledore chided.

"Headmaster I really don't think it's going to work," Snape replied dryly. He seemed to avoid looking at Dumbledore. Although clearly Snape was trying to remain composed, Harry was reminded of himself when he was in trouble.

"Well he is certainly worth the effort," Dumbledore continued, "all things considered." Harry knew they were talking about him, he started to worry about their argument. Snape didn't think it would work, was he talking about the potion. Harry didn't want to be stuck as a baby, or to wait years to get back to normal. "It will be better for you as well," Dumbledore warned. Snape stopped working and looked up at the headmaster. After a moment Snape nodded and went back to brewing his potion. Harry couldn't believe what he heard. Was Dumbledore threatening Snape, if he failed to brew the potion would the man be sacked, or worse?

Harry mumbled an apology that no one understood. Dumbledore, reminded of Harry's presence, tried to look more pleasant. He patted Snape on the shoulder and then ruffled Harry's hair on his way to the floo. "Good day gentlemen," he said as he grabbed some powder out of the jar on the hearth.

"Bu bye," Harry said, surprised to find another word he knew. Dumbledore smiled at him before he turned and left.

Harry had finished his bowl of oatmeal and wanted to try again to apologize to Snape. As much as he disliked the man, he didn't want to get him in trouble, not anymore anyway. He crawled up onto the table and inched closer to the potions.

"Back Potter," Snape shouted. He didn't attempt to hide the anger in his voice; the man was beyond livid. Harry tried to mutter an apology, but Snape rushed at him. Harry had the distinct impression that Snape would chuck him across the room.

Thankfully Molly came back through the floo just in time. Surveying the scene, she rescued Harry and carried him to the opposite side of the room. She had an old box stuffed with clothes, likely hand-me-downs from countless Weasleys. As she changed him, Harry didn't put up a fuss. After combing the tangles out of his hair she relaxed and waited for Harry to leave as usual.

But this time Harry thought he would humor her, to try and make her feel better. He sat quietly in her lap trying to fake that he felt comforted. Meanwhile she seemed evenly on edge. Harry knew that she cared for him, but at the same time it seemed forced. He couldn't help but think about all of his friends and wonder how they were doing. At least he knew Ron and Ginny were okay. He tried not to think about Sirius, at the moment he knew there was nothing he could do. Harry felt his body begin to shake, hoping Molly wouldn't notice he crawled down to the ground.

To try and distract himself he started rummaging through his trunk to find something to do. He found the book that he had gotten for his birthday, the one that had been from his mother. He pulled it out of the trunk and carried it over to Molly; maybe she could read it to him like his mother did.

Back in Molly's lap he was a little disappointed with her book reading performance. She sounded awkward and didn't make cute little voices for any of the characters. He pulled the book away from her and held it close. With a sigh her reminded himself that no one could be like his mom.

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The next few days followed the same basic pattern. Harry tried to be more dependent on Mrs. Weasley, but to no effect. Whenever Snape left the room he felt inexplicably nervous, like Snape alone could protect him. Meanwhile Snape was worse than ever around Harry, insulting him as much as possible. Nights were especially hard for Harry to bear; he woke up afraid more times than he could count with only a stuffed Hedwig to comfort him. Nightmares about his parents, Sirius, his friends and Voldemort plagued his mind. Silently Harry would suffer; he didn't want anyone to know how desperately scared and alone he felt. He had trusted Snape when he was afraid and now he felt betrayed.

That morning an owl arrived with a letter for Harry. Excited it might be from one of his friends Harry ran over to retrieve it. The owl dropped it quickly and flew away, apparently not wanting to be attacked by a baby. He took the envelope in his hands, but was disappointed at once when he realized it was from Hogwarts. Without even bothering to open it he tossed it across the room.

"It's okay dear," Molly encouraged, "you'll be back to your sixteen year old self before you have to go back to school." Harry knew that at least was true. He did not plan to return any other way, if they couldn't get him back to normal he wouldn't go at all.

After lunch Molly picked up Harry and informed him it was time for a nap. Harry was used to this now and although the thought of being alone in his crib was terrifying he didn't complain. Today was different however, Molly accio's Harry's crib and put him down to sleep in the kitchen. Harry laid down and pretended to fall asleep instantly.

"I have to go and get Ron and Ginny off the train," Molly explained to Snape. The man didn't respond, so Molly continued to speak, "Harry should sleep for two and a half hours or so, he usually does." She looked back at Harry to make sure he was in fact asleep. Snape never responded, so Molly went over to the floo and left.

Harry tried not to move, but reached out to take hold of his Hedwig. He felt safer down in the kitchen, knowing Snape was near. Sleep came quickly for him, but it was anything but pleasant. He awoke first after dreaming of Professor Umbridge and detentions where he had to scratch lines into his own arm. The memory wasn't too terrible so Harry drifted easily back to sleep. His next nightmare left him a little more frazzled- the image of Voldemort's sickly body as it sucked blood from the unicorn burned in his mind. He rolled over as quietly as possible and tried to force himself back to sleep. Molly wasn't back yet, so he knew his time wasn't up. As usual he woke up several more times, each dream got a bit worse. The last one was too much and he inadvertently let out a whimper. He tried to remind himself that Sirius would never treat him harshly, that the dream was just a twisted image the pendant had shoved in his mind. His body started to shake again, as it seemed to do often. Harry heard footsteps coming; he tried to feign sleep, although there was nothing he could do about the involuntary quiver of his body.

A warm hand rested gently on his back. Harry could feel his worries start to slip away as his body relaxed. But without warning the hand jerked away.

"Oh shit," Snape muttered mostly to himself. Harry sat up to find out what was wrong. Snape stood cradling his arm closely. "I have to go Potter," Snape said quickly. "Molly will be back shortly." With a pop Snape disapparated.

Harry stood up and stared dumfounded at the space once occupied by Professor Snape. He didn't know what to make of the situation, but figured Snape had been called away by Voldemort. Not knowing what else to do, Harry laid back down and looked up at his quidditch mobile. He didn't think he would fall back asleep so he was surprised to find himself in a dream.

_He was on a train, one not all that dissimilar to The Hogwarts Express. Ron sat stuffing his face with a pile of sweets and meanwhile Ginny leaned against the wall fast asleep. They both seemed to be alone in the compartment so Harry tried to say hi, but they didn't notice him._

_Suddenly the train lurched and he could hear the squeal of the breaks. Ginny woke startled and looked over to Ron who appeared equally surprised. A few compartments up voices started to scream. Ron and Ginny leapt to their feet and pulled out their wands._

_"Stay back," Ron commanded to his sister as he opened the compartment door to lean out. All of a sudden a loud blast rocked his brain, as Harry woke slowly, Voldemort's cackle echoed in his mind._

Becoming aware of the room, Harry tried to cast off his dream as if it were nothing. But it seemed as though enough time had passed, surely Mrs. Weasley should be back now. He couldn't help but think that something had to be wrong.

Trapped in his crib he tried to figure out a way to get free. He tried leaning his weight to the side of the crib in order the cause it to tip over but had no such effect. He tried to swing a leg up in order to climb out, but fell backwards instead and hit his head. Frustrated he flung his plushie Hedwig across the room, instantly he regretted doing so. Desperately he tried climbing out of the crib again, trying a different tactic this time. He pulled up with his arms and then pushed up with his feet. But with socks on, his feet would slip down the wooden bars of the crib. Filled with resolve Harry ripped off his socks and tried to climb again. He was more successful this time, but when he reached the top his body teetered on the edge, threatening to fall forward and bring him crashing to the stone floor. So he leaned backwards and allowed himself to fall back into the crib. With a plan Harry climbed again, this time he stopped at the top and clung tightly in order to swing his legs over. After doing so the momentum was too great for him to hold on and he fell to the floor. Landing on his butt he felt grateful, for the first time, that he was wearing a diaper.

Now that he was free he crawled over to his stuffed Hedwig before he contemplated what to do next. He had to find a way to get help, but he didn't know what to do. He got up and walked over to the floo, if only he could reach the floo powder he could probably call someone to help.

He went over to the table and grabbed one of the chairs. Slowly he dragged it closer to the fire- it was surprisingly hard work. Getting close enough Harry climbed up quickly onto the chair only to be disappointed by the fact he was still too short. If only he had his wand, he knew exactly what he could do. Since returning from the Department of Mysteries the wand had been kept hidden, apparently it wasn't the safest thing for a baby to have.

And then Harry remembered his birthday present from the Weasley twins, the bundle of different colored wands. He didn't know how or if those wands would help him, but he had to try. With the pile of different colored wands in his hands he studied each one to decide which to try first. He wished that the twins had left instructions on exactly what they each did.

He held up the blue wand first and waved it. Nothing happened, perhaps he was supposed to say something first. But Harry new he wouldn't be able to say much, especially in Latin. Frantically he flicked the wand again, just hoping perchance that something would happen. A jet of blue light shot out of the end of the wand, narrowly missing Hedwig perched in the rafters. The light started to fill the ceiling, afraid Harry dropped the wand and no more light escaped. For a moment the light lingered above him and Hedwig, who was now standing on the floor a short distance from Harry. Without warning the light erupted into many simultaneous blue flashes, much like fireworks. Hot burning sparks floated down throughout the room.

Harry crawled under the table after one spark had landed on his arm and gave him a sharp burning pain. Hedwig had also worked her way under the table as well. Harry sat and watched the multitude of sparks fall down from ceiling. One, or perhaps many had managed to set fire to Harry's bed linens. Above him on the table Harry heard disastrous reactions, as some of the potions didn't react too kindly to the bombardment of sparks. Some time passed before the room quieted, only a smoldering crib remained.

Harry tentatively crawled out from under the table and walked back over to the floo. He looked up at the jar of powder, which might as well have been miles away. He knew better than to try another wand, smoke still filled the room from the last one.

Filled with frustration Harry thought, _if only I had my wand. I could hold it up_, Harry extended his arm as if he was holding his wand, and I could command _accio floo powder_. Before he could contemplate his inability to talk as well, something hit him hard on the forehead. The jar of floo powder shattered as it hit the floor.

He looked over to Hedwig, to make sure she hadn't knocked it off the mantel. But she was still huddled safely under the table. Harry, not willing to waste time thinking over the matter, he scooped up a bit of powder and tossed it. 'Dumbledore's Office,' he tried to command.

Nothing happened, but perhaps he could firechat. He tossed more floo powder into the fire and tried to say a command again. Slowly he reached his hand in, unsure if it actually worked, he didn't want to burn his face. Feeling pain he jerked his hand back quickly. He wasn't fast enough though and his hand started to turn red and bubbled.

Clutching his hand close he tried not to cry, but pouted quietly instead. Hedwig flew over to him with a concerned expression. She gave Harry an idea; he went back over to his trunk and pulled out a bit of parchment and a quill. He tried to write something but only a few scribbles came of it. Folding the parchment clumsily, he held it out and tried to say, "Dumbledore." At first the words came out completely incoherently, but as he repeated the name over and over he finally managed to say something like, "dum door."

Hedwig, as if she understood, grabbed the folded parchment in her talons and flew upstairs. Hopefully she continued up to Harry's room and out the window to find Dumbledore. But Harry had no way to know; all he could do now was wait.

He picked up his plushie Hedwig and started to pace in front of the floo. At any moment he expected Snape to step out, or Molly or Dumbledore… someone… At least he hoped so anyway. As time passed he worried more and more, to no surprise his body started to shake once again. It was worse now that he was actually cold. He had slipped off his socks to escape the crib and no doubt they were now part of the burning rubble.

He paced until he was too tired to stand anymore and so he sat staring at the floo. After more time passed he couldn't sit up right and submitted to lying down. Harry was later startled awake by a loud pop. With all of his strength he looked up to see Snape.

The Potions Master looked briefly around the room and relaxed after seeing Harry, who was crawling over. Snape picked up the baby and studied him. Meanwhile Harry studied Snape; the man didn't look to well. Snape took out his wand and muttered some commands, but they didn't see all that coherent. The spell never the less worked as a canister came flying down the stairs. Snape opened it and a moment later he was rubbing some cream over Harry's burns.

"Nape?" Harry asked touching the man's face.

Snape looked so strained and Harry couldn't make out why. Finishing treating Harry's wound he just let go of the canister and let it fall to the floor. At the same moment Snape's legs buckled, causing him to fall to his knees. The whole time he held onto Harry tightly, protectively.

"Nape!" Harry asked, with more alarm.

Weakly Snape pulled out a vial from his robe pocket and just after drinking it he fell limply to the floor.

Harry fell softly at Snape's side and quickly got up to his feet. "Nape!" he shouted shaking the man's shoulder, but Snape didn't respond. Harry was reminded of his mum, images of her dead body hung in his mind. At least Snape was still breathing, although it seemed labored. "Nape!" he shouted again.

"Potter, give me a minute," Snape groaned. Feeling relieved Harry leaned over and hugged Snape's arm. Neither of them moved for awhile and Harry felt himself fall asleep.

He didn't know how much time had passed before he felt Snape stand. By the time Harry finished rubbing his eyes to look around Snape had done a series of charms to make himself more presentable. In the end Snape looked pretty normal, for Snape, although he was still a bit stiff.

Without Snape's warmth Harry was becoming very cold, he didn't shiver, but somehow Snape noticed. He picked Harry back up nonchalantly and surveyed the room. By now the crib was nothing more than a pile of ash. Several scarred marks covered his trunk, but thankfully the contents were still okay. However several of Snape's cauldron's had exploded sending globs of unfinished potions haphazardly across the table. One area had melted its way completely to the ground and was threatening to melt through the floor as well.

"What did you do to the place Potter," Snape said, attempting an angry tone. But mostly Snape sounded over tired and drugged.

Harry tried to look innocent, which probably wasn't all that difficult for a baby, but Snape didn't buy it. He did a few Reparo charms and crib was back to normal. He used Evanesco for most of the spilt potions; it seemed only two cauldrons were salvageable.

Snape paused before he fixed the jar of floo powder. "How did you manage to get this?" he asked as he sat the repaired jar back onto the mantel.

Excitedly Harry kicked his feet to show that he wanted to be put down. Standing on the floor he went through the exact same motions as before. He didn't know if it would work again, but he had to try just in case. Holding out his little hand he thought_, accio floo powder._ Nothing happened. But unwilling to give up he tried again, this time imagining the floo powder coming. Amazingly he saw the jar leap off the mantel in his direction. Instinctively he covered his head with his arms before the jar could hit him again.

Snape caught the jar and put it back in its place. Harry looked up at him with a proud smile. "Interesting," Snape commented to himself. He walked towards Harry ready to pick him up, but stopped when three more figures popped into the room.

"Is everyone okay," Dumbledore asked with his wand raise. McGonagall and Moody were flanking him, both just as ready for battle.

"Albus, everything is okay," Snape answered.

Dumbledore openly sighed in relief, "When I got the letter, I thought Voldemort had distracted us again, drew us out to the countryside in order to attack Harry."

"He wouldn't be able to find the house," Snape clarified. "And what is this letter you're talking about?"

Dumbledore held out the crumpled bit of parchment that had Harry's scribbles on it. "Hedwig delivered it, I assume it can only be from one individual." He looked intently down at Harry.

Harry didn't know what to say, he tried to explain, but all that came out was a bunch of garbled words followed by "Nape."

"Perhaps you could explain Severus," Professor McGonagall suggested.

"I was called away to a meeting," Snape said calmly. "It seems Potter here was in a tizzy and Mrs. Weasley was gone. I must admit I am surprised Harry's letter has brought you all."

Snape gracefully pulled out a chair and sat down. If Harry didn't know any better, he wouldn't have found Snape's actions out of the ordinary. But Harry knew that only a little while earlier the man had crumbled to the floor. Obviously Snape was still not well, out of concern Harry walked over to the man. Snape ignored him.

"There was an attack," Dumbledore said and then asked "Where you there?"

"No," Snape replied, "And neither were Voldemort, Pettigrew or Lucius."

"They were with you?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Obviously," Snape answered losing his patience. Harry reached out to Snape in order to get the man's attention. Snape didn't looked down at him, instead he shouted, "Back Potter!" Harry backed slowly away, feeling a little hurt. "Accio Potter's potion," Snape commanded with a flick of his wand and tossed the bottle down to Harry. "About the attack," Snape continued, "I could use more details."

"Voldemort didn't tell you about it?" asked McGonagall.

Tired of clarifying the obvious Snape didn't respond.

"Death eaters attacked a train," Dumbledore informed him.

That startled Harry and he muttered a bunch of incoherent questions.

Realizing some of Harry's concern Dumbledore pointed out, "No one was killed. A few injured parties were sent to St. Mungos, but they should heal just fine." The others all sat down at the table to discuss the incident further. Harry was reminded of just how tired he felt and wondered what time it was.

"Drink your bottle Potter," Snape snapped, "or I'll shove it down your throat."

No one chastised Snape for his comment, a fact that Harry found a bit odd. He stood there bewildered for a minute but then quickly stuck the bottle in his mouth when Snape moved. He crawled further under the table so that no one could see him.

After a little while Arthur Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt joined the meeting. Harry was having trouble hearing them. Swallowing his pride he climbed up into a chair and after a sharp look from Snape he continued drinking his bottle.

Harry had a difficult time paying attention. He caught only some of the details about the incident. Seven people were injured. There had been four death eaters, all of which escaped. The Aurors along with Dumbledore and McGonagall had arrived just in time to stave of disaster.

Falling asleep, Harry nearly fell off of his chair, Snape caught him. For a moment Harry thought Snape might actually hold him, but was stuffed into the highchair instead. Thrusting the bottle into Harry's hands Snape turned back to the discussion.

Arthur was explaining that Mrs. Weasley would be preoccupied for the next few days and wouldn't be able to return. Ron had been on the train and although suffered only a minor injury, he had lost a lot of blood. Harry felt relieved to know that Ron was going to be okay and dropped his bottle as he nearly slipped off to sleep again. Snape growled, clearly livid and Harry tried to apologize.

This time it was Arthur who rescued him. He picked up Harry and cradled him. He held the bottle so that Harry's limp arms could relax.

"Make sure he drinks it all," Snape commanded.

If Arthur responded or not Harry didn't catch it. He would fade off to sleep only to be nudged awake to finish drinking. Finally Harry sucked down the last of the wretched liquid and could go to sleep. He no longer cared to fight it; he was just too tired.

He woke up briefly as he was passed over to Professor McGonagall. _Is she patting my butt?_ he thought before sleep could claim him. He woke up again as he was passed to Dumbledore. Apparently everyone was having fun taking turns holding baby Harry, if he had the strength, he would be irritated.

He fell back asleep and began to dream. His mind wandered off to the moments after the Triwizard Tournament, when he had been taken away by Barty Crouch, disguised as Moody. He remembered the fleeting moments when he thought he was cornered. Oddly enough he woke up in the arms of Alastor Moody. Under normal conditions Harry didn't find the man too intimidating. But half asleep he caught a glimpse of his magical eye darting around unnaturally and thought that he was back in the hands of Crouch. Startled Harry woke up completely; he wiggled free and climbed on to the table.

He looked around for someone to escape to, only Dumbledore, the Aurors and Snape remained. He didn't care what Snape had to say, he was scared, and he wanted him.

Harry crawled quickly across the table as the others stared at him. He didn't care about his pride anymore; maybe when he was back to his sixteen-year-old self he could pretend he didn't remember anything.

"Stay back Potter," Snape warned. But Harry didn't listen and kept crawling. Snape got up from the table and backed away.

Harry sat at the edge of the table and held up his hands. "Up Nape," he commanded. Snape glanced uncomfortably towards the Headmaster; meanwhile Harry was starting to shake again. Whatever Dumbledore did, Harry didn't see, but Snape picked Harry up and started patting him on his back. Harry laid his head down on Snape's shoulder and felt the fear melt away.

"I was there for him," Snape explained, "the night his scar returned. Mrs. Weasley should have been there, but she was with her idiot son. This is not my fault."

"Did Voldemort sense anything?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"No," Snape replied dryly. Harry could hear the others leaving quietly through the floo. The men didn't continue talking until it seemed the others were gone.

"Will it work?" Dumbledore asked with more vigor, "is the bond strong enough?"

"At the moment I do believe it is," Snape replied.

"This will not bode well for you," Dumbledore chided. "Alas the alternative is worse. But please tell me, are you looking for atonement?"

"No."

A long pause followed. Most likely Dumbledore was studying Snape over to make sure the man was being completely honest. Changing the subject Dumbledore asked, "Do you think the Death Eaters were after Ron and Ginny specifically?"

"Yes."

"Do you believe Voldemort will send others after Hermione?"

"Yes."

"What about Harry's other friends, like the members of the DA?"

"I don't know."

"Would Voldemort gain any tactical advantage by killing any of them?"

"No."

Again Dumbledore changed the subject, "Have you finished Harry's potion?"

"Yes," Snape replied in a more relaxed tone. "Although it would be best to test it out after he is well rested. Tomorrow at noon." Neither man spoke for awhile. Harry could hear Dumbledore walking over to the floo.

"Are you okay?"

Snape wavered a moment before answering, "Yes."

"What did Voldemort want?"

"The same as you actually," Snape replied, "to know the status of my potion. Unfortunately I've been spending most of my time on the Age Accelerator and I've been neglecting his."

"What did Voldemort do?"

Snape hesitated, clearly he didn't want to answer. Harry could imagine Dumbledore's eyes staring over his half moon spectacles. "Cruciatus," he quietly replied. Harry tried to hug Snape tighter. Harry knew how bad it hurt and felt sorry for the man.

"Severus, I hope you rest well," Dumbledore said, his voice filled with regret. "And I will see you tomorrow at noon."

"Thank you Albus."

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Coming Soon:

Chapter 7: A Painful Transition

Authors Note:

I hoped you enjoyed the chapter, it was a bit difficult for me to write (compared to the others). I also hope that it wasn't too long/boring/or redundant… Oh and I also hope that the changing emotions of the different characters are believable and smooth. Feedback would be greatly appreciated.

Sorry it took so long to update, I couldn't upload things for a while…


	7. A Painful Transition

Chapter 7

A Painful Transition

Harry woke up the next morning with sunlight beaming in from the window. Gauging from the intensity of the light, Harry figured it must be late in the morning. He hadn't woke a single time in the night, in fact he didn't remember slipping off to sleep at all. The night before seemed blurry at best, he vaguely remembered the Order meeting. Sitting up he realized he still felt a bit groggy and figured that Snape must have added a sleeping draught to his bottle.

Standing up, he was annoyed to find himself trapped yet again in his crib. At least he knew how to get out now. It was a bit more difficult this time because he was wearing pajamas complete with little feet covers. Thankfully little round dots on the feet covers provided some traction and he was able to climb out without having to strip naked. Once free on the outside, he reached back through the wooden bars and rescued his plushie Hedwig.

Walking over to the door he was disappointed to find that it was actually shut. He contemplated a plan to try and climb up to the doorknob. But before he could execute it Snape opened the door and entered the room.

Snape nearly stepped on Harry before he noticed the crib was empty and paused to look around the room.

"Hi," Harry said as Snape's gaze found him.

With the flick of Snape's wand Harry pajamas transfigured into regular clothes. Harry giggled to himself when he realized he was wearing an outfit almost exactly like his school uniform, complete with the vest. All he needed now was a little tie and a robe with the Gryffindor crest.

"You need to eat," Snape informed him as he picked Harry up. Down in the kitchen Snape put Harry into his highchair and thrust a couple of bunt pieces of toast into his hands. "Eat," Snape commanded.

Harry stuck the toast in his mouth and tore off a small piece with his little collection of front teeth. He tried to chew it, but the bread was tough. Instead he let the bread sit in his mouth until enough saliva had collected so that his gums could mush it up.

Snape stood eating his own piece of toast and looked over his two remaining cauldrons. With his wand he put out the fire beneath both of them and then accioed an empty bottle. He poured each of the potions into the bottle, secured the lid, and then shook. The liquid in the bottle turned black and tar-like. Disgusted Harry nearly spit up his bread.

"How is it Potter," Snape snapped, "that you've managed to destroy all my potions, but the two that remain unharmed are for you?"

Harry muttered an apology and then shrugged.

Meanwhile Snape pulled out a small vial from a robe pocket that held a fine white powder. After twisting off the bottle's lid, he uncorked the vial and added its contents to the potion. Immediately the black liquid cleared up so that it looked exactly like water.

Harry sighed in relief; the potion now looked a lot more bearable. He returned to the task at hand, eating the dry toast.

Snape accioed more cauldrons and potion ingredients. He quickly got to work brewing a variety of different potions that Harry didn't recognize.

Silently Harry watched, he hadn't noticed the time pass until Dumbledore stepped through the floo. Right after him Madame Pomfrey flooed in as well as Mrs. Weasley.

Madame Pomfrey looked at Harry as if she had been briefed on his condition, but unwilling to truly believe it till she saw him herself. Harry was surprised to see her out of school. He didn't think she was in the Order, so why was she there?

"It's noon," Snape informed them all. "Time for the potion."

And suddenly it hit Harry. The potion, the one that might mean he'd have to live through all his past injuries, the one that had to be carefully balanced so as not to kill him… the potion.

He wanted to crawl away and hide- perhaps being a baby wasn't so bad after all.

xxxxx

After being checked over by Madame Pomfrey, Harry was taken upstairs to his bedroom. Snape put him down on his bed and covered him up with a blanket. Meanwhile the others all lingered outside the door.

"So Harry, I have to be here, to monitor your progress," Snape explained. "But do you want the others to be here as well? Molly perhaps."

Harry was busy shaking his head, but added a "no" to clarify. Really he didn't want anyone to be there at all, he knew whatever was going to happen it was likely to be embarrassing. At least he had his plushie Hedwig to hold onto. A part of him was glad that Snape was required to stay, he'd never ask the man to, but he felt better with him present.

"I'm going to charm your clothes away," Snape continued, "I doubt you'll find them very comfortable once you grow."

Harry nodded to show that he understood, but blushed as well. With a flick of Snape's wand Harry felt his clothes disappear and clung tightly to the blankets.

Ignoring Harry's behavior Snape handed him the bottle. Harry took it and started to drink the clear liquid. The taste was beyond horrible, something along the lines of rotten eggs boiled in a raw sewage.

Harry stopped drinking and held the bottle up. "Yucky," he explained.

"You have to drink it all Harry and don't stop," Snape encouraged as he gently pushed the bottle back into Harry's mouth.

Filled with determination Harry sucked away. After a little while he didn't notice the taste anymore. The liquid felt cool as it coated his throat and that feeling continued all the way down to his stomach.

"This is going to hurt," Snape informed. He didn't say it might hurt, like there was a possibility of reliving old wounds. No he said it was going to hurt. Startled Harry paused, the bottle squealed as air rushed into it. But after a moments hesitation he continued drinking away.

Over time the cool feeling in his throat and stomach turned into an itch. The itch became a burn. Harry tried to pull the bottle out of his mouth but Snape stopped him. Harry attempted to remain calm and endure the burning pain. But then he started to panic; he struggled to break free from Snape's pinning grasp. He flailed his arms wildly at his captor, but Snape didn't back down. Tears welled in his eyes; his stomach wanted to reject the potion. It was too overwhelming, he couldn't breathe, he was drowning and still Snape pressed the bottle into his mouth.

His stomach cramped up, he was going to vomit. Finally Snape pulled the bottle out of his mouth just as he spit out a bit of the rejected potion. Coughing Harry gasped for a breath.

But no relief came, the burning continued to spread over his entire body. First he felt his bones extend, all the growing pains he'd ever felt seemed to magnify beyond comprehension, he thought his skin would tear open. His teeth cut out through the gums, but he couldn't cry out in pain. He had an acute sense of each and every inch of his body, every last tissue burned in agony. His body was completely rigid, he wouldn't move for fear of causing yet more pain. His mind went blank and then he realized he was going to die.

A strong hand grasped his. Instantly he regained a sense of reality. The pain would pass- he could make it. And slowly it did, leaving him feeling more like a pile of jello than a real human being. Even though the pain was gone, Harry didn't want to move for fear of bringing it back. But eventually he relaxed his clenched jaw and opened his eyes.

"Very good Harry," Snape commented.

His eyesight was blurry and when he turned his head he felt like he might sick up again. Harry tried to sit up, but he felt too weak and small- he still felt small. Raising an arm he realized it looked more like a young child's, far from his sixteen year old self.

"Why… what happened… how-" Harry tried to ask, but couldn't think of the right question.

Meanwhile Snape said a few cleaning charms and started examining Harry's eyes. Everything was still blurry so Harry couldn't see the expression on Snape's face. But he caught sight of the bottle, he had only drank half the contents.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quickly. Harry was starting to worry, Snape had said to drink it all. He hadn't aged much, not much at all. "Hand it back to me," Harry said, reaching for the bottle, "I'll finish it."

"It won't work anymore," Snape clarified, "it was formulated for your baby self."

"It didn't work," Harry groaned. Harry thought back to an earlier conversation between Snape and Dumbledore. All along Snape didn't think the potion was going to work and now Harry had proved it. Was this why Snape knew he would fail, because he had been too weak to drink it all. And then Harry remembered Dumbledore's threat, was Snape going to be sacked now? "I'm so sorry Snape," Harry blurted out, "I don't mean to get you in trouble."

"Potter what are you carrying on about?" Snape snapped. Barely listening to the boy talk Snape examined Harry's hand, pinching the skin and releasing it.

"You failed… Dumbledore warned you… and it's all my fault," Harry said quietly. Biting his lip he looked away.

"Potter you-" but Snape paused to think back over the past few days and then continued, "Potter you misunderstood the conversation. And I have not failed, you have grown just as I expected."

Harry looked up at his little hand, "but sir I'm… I'm not…"

"No, you're not sixteen. You didn't honestly think you'd be able to age all at once?" Snape asked in a mocking tone. "It will take a least a couple of stages."

_Yeah I had_, Harry felt like shouting back. Snape never said anything about stages, how was he supposed to know?

"Here, drink this," Snape ordered shoving a mug into his hand. Harry sniffed at it tentatively, it smelled like Pumpkin Juice, but Harry was still a bit worried.

"It's just Pumpkin Juice," Snape said. "Now drink and eat." He sat a small plate of toast on the bed beside Harry. Slowly he sipped at his drink and nibbled on his bread. He half expected the burning pain to return but relaxed when it didn't.

After awhile Snape got up and opened the door. The others entered, apparently they were all fully aware Harry would still be fairly small. This irritated Harry to know end, as usual the last to know anything.

Madame Pomfrey swooped in quickly and gave Harry a full examination. She had with her a small set of glasses and after giving them a quick charm she handed them over. Harry put them on and was happy to see the world come back into focus.

Next Molly Weasley stepped up holding a box full of clothing. She pulled out a small pair of underwear and walked closer.

Holding tightly to the blankets shielding him Harry quickly said, "I'll manage on my own thank you."

"Of course," Molly said as she handed him the underwear and then a pair of pants and a red jumper. Harry held onto them, but there was no way he would dress with a crowd.

"How are you feeling Harry?" Dumbledore asked politely.

"Er… I've been better," Harry replied. At the moment he was feeling especially drained and wanted to just curl up and go to bed. And even though the pain was gone, he felt increasingly worried that it might randomly spring up again.

"Potter needs his rest," Snape interjected.

"Right," Dumbledore added with a nod.

The others left, but Snape remained as Harry finished eating. For a while he didn't speak, but then asked, "is the pain gone?"

"Yes," Harry answered.

"Tell me how you feel," Snape probed.

"Weak and awfully drained," Harry replied and then added, "are we going to have to do that again?"

"Yes," Snape responded. But then in an oddly comforting tone he continued, "The next couple stages should be a bit easier to endure. A person grows a lot in the first years of life."

Harry looked away; he didn't know how he could endure the pain again, knowing how bad it was.

After drinking the last of the Pumpkin Juice, Snape took away the dishes. And then he said, "lay down and rest. If you need anything or start feeling any pain, call out. I will be just down the hall."

"Yes sir," Harry replied as he curled up into a comfortable position.

After Snape left the room Harry realized he had forgotten to act naïve, as if he couldn't remember what happened as a baby. But it was too late, they all knew Harry had his sixteen-year-old mind as he clung onto Snape in fear. Drifting off to sleep, he wished he could take it all back. He knew once he was back in school, he'd never live it down.

xxxxx

After a few hours Harry woke up. He quickly dressed underneath his blanket, just in case someone felt it necessary to check on him. Before leaving he rifled through the box of clothes to make sure there weren't any smaller pants. The pair he had on was a touch too long and much too big around the middle. He also located some socks, but was unable to find any shoes.

Carefully holding his pants up Harry left his room and walked down the hall. He found Snape's door ajar and the man sitting at his desk studying.

"Excuse me sir," Harry said tentatively from the doorway.

Quickly Snape got up and came over to Harry. "How are you feeling," he asked sincerely.

"I'm okay," Harry replied, but his stomach growled loudly to say otherwise.

"You're hungry," Snape pointed out.

"Well yeah there's that…"

"Come down to the kitchen," Snape commanded as he lightly grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him down the hall. Harry had a hard time keeping up and needed to sprint alongside Snape long stride. All the while Snape continued to speak, "I'm not sure why you seem so starved. The potion wasn't supposed to do that, perhaps I made a small error." At the stairs Harry tripped over his pants and nearly toppled down them, but Snape pulled him upright.

"The pants are too big," Harry said as he blushed.

Snape flicked his wand and the pants grew snug around Harry's waist and the cuff rested nicely just below the ankle.

"Thanks!" Harry said smiling.

"I don't understand," Snape continued. "You are emaciated and clearly dehydrated."

"Oh I was always like this," Harry explained. "I didn't eat much when I was growing up."

"Didn't eat much Potter?" Snape said sharply. "You look half starved."

Suddenly Harry realized Snape's confusion. Embarrassed Harry started to study the floor. He spoke quietly as he tried to clarify, "The Dursleys… they er… I was such a nuisance… they." Harry didn't know how to say it- he felt like shouting at the top of his lungs, 'they starved me okay. They locked me in the cupboard where I could smell the food I'd never be allowed to eat. I had to sneak out at night to get food.' But instead he blurted out; "I didn't eat much, now let it go."

Snape studied him for a moment, as if to contemplate how to respond. Harry shifted nervously, wishing that they could just move on. Finally Snape said, "You're going to eat now."

Harry was relieved when they started walking down the stairs.

In his chair Harry had to stand on his knees in order to reach the food. Mrs. Weasley had left a platter of self-filling chicken sandwiches and a large mug of Pumpkin Juice. While Harry ate Snape looked over his various potions.

"You don't eat much do you?" Harry said over a mouth full of food.

Snape didn't respond to Harry's statement but changed the subject instead; "Professor McGonagall will be flooing in later today to discuss the classes you will be enrolling in next year."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"A requirement, the Head of House meets will all the sixth year students before the start of term to make sure they select the appropriate classes for their chosen career path."

"Did you do that?"

"Yes, a while ago. It is late in the summer, surely Professor McGonagall would have met with you sooner had it been possible."

Harry was about to ask why she couldn't meet with him but then realized, "right, I transfigured myself into a baby. Will I be back to my sixteen year old body before I have to return to school?"

"Perhaps," Snape replied, "If you manage not to ruin anymore of my potions or destroy more of my ingredients."

"I… I'm sorry," Harry said quietly. Losing his appetite, he pushed his half-eaten sandwich away.

"When did you put on the Aurum Duco Pendant?" Snape asked startling Harry.

"Er… well," He had to think back, although it had only been a few weeks ago it felt like ages. "Let's see, the first day I was here actually. I mean, not the first night of course, but the next day, after the Order meeting."

"Where did you get it?"

"Up in the attic, in Sirius' trunk," Harry said. A fresh bout of guilt washed over him. He still felt responsible to find a way to rescue Sirius, there had to be a way. He decided to stick to his original plan and research the veil when he returned to school.

"What attic?" Snape snapped, pulling Harry out of his thoughts.

"The one on top of the building," Harry said sarcastically.

"Potter this building doesn't have an attic," Snape said sternly, he sounded as though he was losing his patience.

"Ha, I guess you don't know everything," Harry replied smartly.

"Show me."

Harry brought Snape all the way up the stairs to the top floor and then walked over to the small door leading to the attic. "Right through there," Harry said full of confidence.

"Potter, that's a wall," Snape replied flatly.

"Are you blind?" Harry asked as he reached out to the doorknob, "The door is right here." He pulled the door open and looked towards Snape, daring the man to continue the charade.

"I didn't know you were a mime," Snape casually commented.

"Fine," Harry yelled as he stepped through the small doorway.

"Potter!" Snape shouted in surprise. Although Snape was just a few feet away, his voice sounded muffled as if he were yelling through a wall.

"You really can't see it," Harry shouted back.

"Obviously," Snape replied. He held his hands up feeling an invisible wall.

Harry reached out and grabbed Snape's hand. The man flinched, at Harry's touch and then gasped when it was clear he could see the opening. Holding on tightly to Harry's hand Snape examined the old staircase. He pulled out his wand and uttered a series of charms. With his wand ready he slowly stepped through the small doorway, having to stoop a bit so as not to hit his head.

"Sirius' trunk is up here," Harry said excitedly as he brought Snape up the stairs. Reaching the top Harry was embarrassed, he had forgotten about the books. Ripped out pages were scattered everywhere, it really did look like the work of a madman.

Harry tried to wiggle his hand free from Snape's grip.

"Wait," Snape commanded. He mumbled another series of spells, examining the room.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"I want to make sure that when you let go of me I don't find myself trapped in the wall."

"So you think you can see this place just because you're holding my hand?"

"Clearly," Snape snapped. "Now don't move." He tentatively released his grasp and looked around.

"You still here," Harry said, watching Snape's eyes, "in the attic I mean."

Snape gave Harry an annoyed look and then continued to survey the room. He picked up one of the ravaged books and read the title.

"Er… I don't suppose you could fix these," Harry asked quietly.

Snape raised an eyebrow; "the Reparo Charm is not beyond my ability." He started repairing the books one by one.

While Snape was distracted Harry wandered over to Sirius' trunk. He opened the lid and pulled out one of the long robes. Even though it was way too big he pulled it on. "Look, I'm Sirius Black," Harry announced.

Snape took one look at Harry and commanded, "Take it off."

"But why?" Harry asked confused.

"That's not Sirius' robe, take it off."

Harry looked down at the robe; he fingered the crest, and was surprised to see that it was Slytherin's. "Sirius was in Gryffindor," Harry said dumfounded.

"Exactly, now take it off," Snape said. Harry tried to obey, but Snape pulled it off of him before he could move. Snape then shoved the robe back into the trunk and shut the lid. Using his wand he warded the trunk, apparently to keep Harry out.

"But it's Sirius Black's trunk," Harry said sadly, pointing to the lettering.

"Are you a complete idiot?" Snape snapped. "Sirius is a family name, his Great Grandfather for example, was Sirius Black."

Harry stepped back and sat down. Leaning against the low attic wall he pulled his knees towards his body. He did think it was Sirius' trunk, his Sirius, he desperately wanted to have something of his godfathers. But he had nothing, just a stupid old broken mirror.

"Why do you think I can see the door to the attic and you can't?" Harry asked.

"It's your house," Snape commented.

"I doubt Sirius knew this was here," Harry replied. "He was trying to get rid of all his family heirlooms."

"Hhmm, well then I don't know," Snape said quietly. When finished repairing the books he said, "we should get back to the kitchen. Professor McGonagall will be here shortly."

Harry got up to walk back down the stairs. But paused and tried to think of a way to apologize to Snape. He had almost killed the man after all, left him to die. "Er… Professor." Harry didn't know how to say it; he didn't expect Snape to forgive him anyway. The Potions Master was notorious for holding a grudge.

"What is it Potter?" Snape snapped, clearly losing patience with the boy.

"I'm sorry sir," he blurted out.

"Just say it Potter," Snape replied.

"Er… what?" Harry asked confused. What did Snape want him to say?

"Whatever it is you're trying to say, just say it."

"Oh I did say it, I'm sorry," Harry clarified. Snape still looked confused. "Look I'm sorry I almost killed you, that I left you for dead. I'm sorry okay? I'm sorry." Harry looked away; he couldn't meet the Professor's gaze.

After a long awkward silence Snape said, "Forget about it. Now let's go back down to the kitchen."

That didn't exactly mean that Snape had forgiven him, but it was a start. Feeling a little better Harry turned and sprinted down the stairs. He was in the hallway before he remembered Snape.

"Potter," a muffled voice shouted. Momentarily Harry hesitated, watching Snape's searching eyes staring at an invisible wall. He giggled to himself as he contemplated leaving the man trapped in the attic. But then he reached out and took Snape's arm so he could step out.

xxxxx

While he waited for McGonagall Harry worked on his potion essays. His handwriting was phenomenally bad compared to his normal scrawl. Otherwise the essays were fairly easy to write seeing as he'd already done extensive reading.

Harry was so focused on his work that he hardly noticed the time pass and was startled when he heard Professor McGonagall speak.

"Harry," McGonagall called. "Harry I haven't got all day."

"Sorry Professor," Harry said as he looked up from his work. McGonagall was sitting down at the table only a chair away and Harry hadn't even noticed she arrived.

"You know why I'm here?" she prompted.

"Yes," Harry replied.

"What classes would you like to take?" McGonagall asked. "You got seven O.W.Ls so you can continue on to advanced studies within any of those."

"Well what classes were those?"

"You didn't read your letter?" McGonagall pressed.

"Er… no," he replied. In fact he had tossed the letter across the room and now he wasn't so sure where it ended up.

At this moment Snape saw it fit to toss the letter in Harry's direction. Tentatively Harry opened it up and looked over his grades. He got a Dreadful in Divination, but he knew that was a lost cause. He got a Poor in History of Magic, but after all he had passed out during that exam.

"Hey look," Harry said, pointing to the letter, "I got an Exceeds Expectations in Potions."

"As it would seem," Snape grumbled.

"So I can't continue with History of Magic or Divination, but I knew I wouldn't anyway. So this really doesn't help."

"What are your career plans?"

"Er… Auror I guess."

"You guess?" McGonagall chided. "This is serious Mr. Potter, you need to be certain."

"I am certain," he clarified, "I want to be an Auror."

"Then you must take Potions, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms. And although it's not required I recommend you take Astronomy, it's only once a week after all and can be quite helpful. Then that leaves only one more class, what would you like to take Mr. Potter?"

"What's Ron taking?" Harry asked.

"You will not decide your course load based on Mr. Weasley," McGonagall snapped. "Now what do you want to take?"

"Well, Care of Magical Creatures I guess," Harry knew Hagrid would like his company. If anyone was going to continue in his class it should be him.

"Then that covers it Mr. Potter," McGonagall said as she scribbled down a few notes on her parchment.

"Take Herbology," Snape interjected.

"What?" Harry asked, "Why?"

"It will help you with Potions," Snape explained.

"But I already have a full course load," Harry pointed out.

"Drop Care of Magical Creatures," Snape said. At this point Professor McGonagall was glaring at him, apparently she didn't take too kindly to Snape's interference.

Harry didn't want to drop that class, although he didn't particularly fancy another year of dangerous creatures, he really liked Hagrid. He knew it would hurt Hagrid's feelings if he didn't take the class.

"I'm sure Hagrid will let you assist with some of his classes. There is no need to waste your time," Snape added.

Snape had a point and even though he didn't like to admit it, he was beginning to agree. "All right," Harry said, "I'll drop Care of Magical Creatures and take Herbology."

Looking a little put out; McGonagall crossed out some of her notes and made the change. After she was done she pulled out a steaming platter of roast from her purse. Shocked Harry tried to get a closer look at McGonagall's handbag as she pulled out a bowl of rolls and then a plate full of steamed corncobs.

"Who carries a full course meal in their purse?" Harry asked as McGonagall passed him a mug of pumpkin juice.

"What should I carry it in?" McGonagall replied calmly.

With the food staring him in the face Harry didn't care to discuss the matter further. He quickly filled his plate and started eating. It didn't take long for his stomach to get full, being small he really couldn't eat as much as his former sixteen-year-old self.

"Why do we work on all this summer course work, when we don't even end up taking all the classes?" Harry asked as he pushed his plate away.

"So you don't end up in detention," Snape replied.

McGonagall appeared to have been ready to give the same response. But she was busy gathering up the dishes leaving the left over food. She excused herself and left through the floo.

Sighing Harry returned to his essays, he had a lot to do, and the summer was nearly over. After he finished his potion essays he would need to go back a rewrite all of his others. Snape had managed to write comments all over his other essays, including the one for Hagrid on behavior of a Flash Caterpillar.

"Harry, you look tired, you should go to bed," Snape suggested.

Snape was right- he was exhausted. "Yes sir," he said stacking up his work. He climbed the stairs and went to bed.

xxxxx

_In his dream Harry found himself alone. He was standing on the street of Privet Drive, watching the Dursley's house._

_"He is not here my Lord," a voice growled._

_"I know," Harry responded, but it wasn't his voice. "But you will find him."_

_Harry turned to look at the figure next to him. Evil piercing eyes stared back. Harry gasped, he tried to turn away, but instead he started to laugh. That horrible cackle he recognized as Voldemort's._

_Desperately he tried to push Voldemort from his mind; he fought to wake up. But the evil figure held his gaze, Harry felt like it could see deep into his soul._

Harry managed to wake up, but a part of him still felt trapped in the dream. It could still see him. His scar flared painfully.

Harry climbed out of bed, holding tightly to his Hedwig plushie; he wanted to find Snape. He stepped out into the hall and was surprised to find several Order members loitering about. He had to squint a bit, coming from the dark room; the hallway was too bright.

"What's wrong Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley asked, bending low so as to see Harry eye to eye.

He wasn't about to explain his dream to her. She'd just flush with worry and in the end wouldn't be able to help anyway. Instead he asked, "What are you all doing here?"

"Er… well," Mrs. Weasley stammered. But then she looked over to the others for a way to respond.

"It's a full moon Harry," Dumbledore said.

"Oh," Harry replied. He tried to look calm, but a shiver went up his spine. Now he understood the evil figure from his dream. It was a werewolf, they were after him again and the Order members were here to protect him.

"I doubt the werewolves will be able to find this house," Dumbledore comforted. "We're here just in case." His eyes twinkled, Harry half expected the man to offer him a bowl of ice cream.

Harry didn't feel all that confident in Dumbledore's assessment of the situation. If the old man really thought the werewolves couldn't find the house, then he probably wouldn't be there. Besides, Harry could still feel the werewolf's gaze- it could see him- it knew where he was.

"Where's Snape," Harry blurted out.

"_Professor_ Snape," Dumbledore corrected.

Harry rolled his eyes; Dumbledore could be really annoying. Harry didn't need to wait for a response; he knew where Snape's room was. He pushed past the others and walked down to Snape's room. He knocked lightly and waited for a response.

The door opened, Snape didn't look up from his work but said, "yes?"

Suddenly Harry felt completely ridiculous; he was standing there in bright orange Cudley Cannons pajamas. And then he had his Hedwig plushie, as if he were an infant, but he couldn't bring himself to put it away… not yet. He contemplated returning to bed, when the pain in his scar intensified. He groaned quietly and attempted to use his hand to rub the pain away.

"Potter?" Snape asked, sounding surprised. He dropped his quill and got up quickly, "what's wrong?"

Harry stepped in the room and then closed the door behind him. He practically shoved the door in Dumbledore's face, but he didn't care.

"It can see me," Harry blurted out as he turned back to Snape.

"Occlude your mind," Snape ordered.

"You know I can't do that," Harry cried.

Snape picked Harry up and carried him back over to his chair. Sitting down, Snape held Harry in his lap.

Harry didn't fight it, at the moment he didn't care about his pride. He clutched one of Snape's arms tightly. He could feel Snape legitimizing him. Harry didn't mind- he didn't have anything to hide.

The image of the evil eyes flashed into his thoughts. Snape flinched, but then Harry could feel the image being pushed away.

"Is everything okay Severus," Dumbledore asked entering the room.

Harry could feel Snape's mind leaving his and the evil gaze caught him again. Panicked Harry held tighter to Snape's arm.

"Headmaster," Snape asked gravely, "Please leave us. They can see Harry. The Dark Lord has made a connection and is leading them here."

"Yes of course," Dumbledore said and Harry could hear the door click shut.

Again Snape entered his mind and pushed the scary creature away. Slowly all of his thoughts seemed to fade away until he was left listening to Snape's steady heartbeat. Every now and then he would think of something startling, but that thought would be pushed away, until he was left with nothing. Nothing but complete calm.

Authors note:

What to say… um, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

-I changed ( a day after original post)… I had Snape refer to Voldemort by his name, but I think that's ooc so I changed it to Dark Lord.

Coming Soon:

Chapter 8: Diagon Alley


	8. Diagon Alley

Chapter 8 Diagon Alley

xxxxx

Harry woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. He no longer felt the evil eyes staring at him and he was sure they were gone. An early morning light shone through the window assuring him that the moon was gone, the werewolves were back to their human form. Now he was safe, for a while at least.

He got up and dressed quickly. Opening the door to the hallway, he looked around tentatively. He really didn't feel like talking to Dumbledore or Mrs. Weasely. Thankfully no one was there, hopefully they were gone and he could just go downstairs for breakfast. Toast with Snape never seemed so inviting.

When he got to the top of the stairs just above the basement he paused. He could hear Dumbledore's voice. Frowning, Harry contemplated returning to his room- maybe he could wait them out.

But as he turned to leave he heard another voice that called him back. Before he could sprint down the stairs though Harry was caught. Snape had picked him up and was carrying him back upstairs.

"Lupin," Harry said excitedly. "I want to go see Lupin."

"No," Snape replied. "The werewolf can't know the state you're in. Remember only a select few know about your condition."

"But Lupin won't tell anyone," Harry pleaded. He tried to squirm his way out of Snape's arms, but the man was too strong.

"He's working too close to the Dark Lord," Snape explained, "the daft fool wouldn't be able to keep the information from him."

Snape hauled Harry all the way to the drawing room before he put the boy down. And there he warded the door before Harry could get out. Harry folded his arms and glared at Snape, but in the end he realized he looked like an idiot.

Snape sat down at the writing desk and looked over a pile of paperwork. Harry advanced at him, full of anger.

"So why can't I see Lupin," Harry asked, he tried to sound livid, but it came out more like a whine.

Snape scowled, "I already told you."

"But how is he 'too close,'" Harry asked mockingly.

"He's a werewolf," Snape replied as if the connection were obvious.

"So what, that doesn't mean he's on Voldemort's payroll," Harry retorted. He waited for Snape's response but it was becoming evident that the man wouldn't give up anymore information. Bitterly Harry said, "you're just like the others. Let's all keep precious Harry Potter in the dark, why I don't need to know anything at all. Perhaps when Voldemort is looming over me, ripping out my soul, someone will have the decency to tell me about it." Harry was red-faced and breathing heavily.

Meanwhile Snape stared at him, dumfounded, mouth hanging open. Harry wished he'd had a camera- no one would believe him. "And why aren't you at the meeting," Harry shouted, changing the subject.

"Perhaps it's best I don't know everything," Snape replied, regaining composure.

"I thought Dumbledore trusted you."

"He does," Snape replied sounding offended. "But inevitably information can be tortured out of anyone."

Harry didn't know how to respond to that. Blushing he looked down to study his feet. He never thought about Voldemort torturing Snape, but it was a distinct possibility. Harry knew the man had endured the Cruciaus Curse at least once.

"I'm sorry sir," Harry replied meekly.

"Sit down," Snape commanded, but the edge in his voice was gone. "Eat your breakfast."

Harry sat down in the chair facing the desk. A plate of toast popped in front of him. _Ah, toast with Snape_, Harry mussed. Only his toast was a bit different than usual. Taking a bite, Harry exclaimed, "strawberry jam! Thanks sir, that's my favorite."

After finishing his toast Harry got up to look around the room. He was glad to see that all of the books had been returned to the shelves. He hated to think that he might have destroyed some of the remaining things in the house. He scanned the titles, but he really didn't feel like reading anything. He glanced at the glass-fronted cabinets, but didn't look too long in case Snape was watching him. He circled the room a couple more times, but there was just nothing to do.

Resigned he laid down in the middle of the room and stretched out his arms and legs. He didn't know why, but he had this sudden urge to run around. He felt trapped; it had been nearly a month since he'd been outside. Restless he rolled to the side, maybe he climb the shelf. No, that was absurd, he returned to his back and stared up. He started counting the inlaid wooded squares that lined the ceiling. For no apparent reason he lifted his legs up into the air and started to pretend he was walking on the ceiling.

"Potter, what's wrong with you," Snape snapped.

Startled Harry let his legs dropped quickly to the floor. But before he could make up some random explanation the door to the drawing room opened.

Dumbledore walked in smiling, "Good morning Harry."

"Hi," Harry said quickly, he was already eyeing the open door. "Can I go see Lupin?"

"No," Dumbledore replied.

"But why?" Harry whined.

"Lupin is very busy and he's left already," Dumbledore explained.

Harry felt angry; knowing full well that Dumbledore was withholding information yet again. He considered a list of insults he could yell at that man, but finally settled on saying nothing.

Dumbledore went over to the desk and sat down in the chair facing Snape. The Potions Master looked up from his work and waited for the Headmaster to speak. Harry walked over and stood by the desk, daring them to send him away.

After some thought Dumbledore spoke, "Severus, when will Harry's potion be done?"

"Shortly, although I need to buy the final ingredient, unless you can spare Hagrid again."

"Can you get it in Diagon Alley?"

"Perhaps," Snape replied pessimistically.

"But you will try?"

"Yes."

"May I go too?" Harry piped in.

"No," Dumbledore replied sternly, leaving no room for argument.

Miffed Harry considered stomping out of the room, but realized just in time how stupid that would make him look.

"Any other concerns?" Dumbledore asked Snape.

"No," Snape replied as he bent down to get back to work.

Dumbledore got up to leave and said, "Good day gentlemen."

"Bye," Harry replied. When he was sure the old man was out of earshot he started muttering to himself. "Stupid old codger, lock me up, feed me sweets. I'm sure that'll do the trick. By the time I face Voldemort I'll be as fat as Dudley. Powers the Dark Lord knows not, yeah right- unless you count the ability to suck on lemon drops."

"Harry!" Snape snapped. Startled Harry looked over at the man, he forgot he wasn't alone. But Snape didn't look too angry, slightly amused maybe- but Harry really couldn't tell.

xxxxx

The rest of the day continued to be just as boring. Harry wandered around the house, he even tried running up and down the halls, but he still felt restless. He started whining to go outside, if only for a short while. But the answer was always the same, no.

The next day his trapped feeling only grew stronger. After breakfast he tried to help Snape with his potions. But he was too jittery and kept making mistakes; fed up Snape sent him away.

Standing in the Entrance Hall Harry decided to find a creative way to go back up the stairs. Using the spindles for support Harry climbed up the stairs outside of the railing. He was near the top floor before he got caught.

"Potter, what do you think you're doing," Snape snapped.

"I… er," Harry looked for a way to talk himself out of the situation, but really there was nothing he could say.

He felt his body levitating upward. Confused he held on tighter to the spindles.

"Potter let go," Snape ordered.

Harry obeyed and shortly he found himself levitated down to the ground floor. There, Snape loomed over him, the man looked furious. Harry had a hard time maintaining eye contact so he stared at the floor.

"Are you really that stupid Potter?" Snape chastised. "Looking to break your neck are you?"

Harry didn't know what to say, he felt like crying. It had been a long time since Snape had talked to him like that and he was surprised at how much it hurt. Harry tried to think about what he'd done to make the man so mad. Sure he was being a bit dangerous… But then Harry realized it was more than that. He really had been increasingly annoying- whining to go outside, running around, and even messing up with the potions.

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled.

"It's time for lunch," Snape snapped, "try to control yourself long enough to eat a meal." The man stalked downstairs and slowly Harry followed behind him.

Harry sat down to eat and tried to be as quiet as possible. Snape went back to his brewing. He realized now why the man had been so busy with potions, it seemed as though Snape were responsible for stocking the whole school.

In his effort to be as careful as possible Harry accidentally knocked over his mug of Pumpkin Juice. It had been nearly full, making a huge mess of the area. Harry looked up at Snape, waiting to be yelled at- the Potion Master noticed everything. Inexplicably Harry found himself jumping out of the chair and darting up the stairs. He knew he was being stupid, but he ran all the way up the drawing room and hid under the writing desk.

He sat quietly, listening intently for the sound of stomping feet. Harry knew from experience, if he just stayed out of the way for awhile… Sometimes it worked with Uncle Vernon.

Harry heard the desk drawer start to open, had Snape come in and he didn't notice. He crawled out from under the desk a little to see who was opening the drawer. He was surprised when a hand reached down and pulled him up by the hair.

"Uncle Vernon!" Harry cried. He was too busy being scared of the man to realize how strange it was for him to be at Grimmauld Place.

"Into the cupboard with you boy, no meals," the fat man was dragging him across the room.

"No, no please," Harry begged. He felt like he was five again, back at Privet Drive. "Please, no. I'll be good, I'll stay out of the way…"

Snape grabbed him and pulled him away from his Uncle. Harry hid behind the man's long billowing robes. _Get him Snape_, Harry though.

Harry was confused when he heard Snape say, "Riddikulus."

It wasn't until the boggart was sent back into the writing desk that Harry realized what was going on. Embarrassed Harry tried to run out of the room, but Snape stopped him.

"I'm not scared of my Uncle," Harry blurted out. He knew how feeble his argument was; it was a boggart after all. But he really wasn't afraid of his Uncle, so he didn't know why it turned into one.

"Harry," Snape said, stooping down to one knee he looked Harry in the eye. "I'm not going to turn into your Uncle. No matter how annoying you get, I'm not going to stuff you in a cupboard."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He thought up thousands of reasons for Snape to chuck him aside- he really had been annoying lately. Not to mention the fact it was his fault he was a stupid little kid now. But Snape didn't back down from his statement, he just watched Harry intently, comfortingly.

Hoping that he wouldn't regret it, Harry let himself lean forward and hugged the man. He felt the weight of the world melt away when Snape hugged him back.

xxxxx

Later that afternoon Mrs. Weasley stopped by to drop off some toys for Harry. He felt a little peeved realizing that Snape must have asked her to. But in the end he was happy to get some news about Ginny and Ron.

Ginny hadn't been hurt at all and Ron, well Ron hit his head after the blasting curse and got a rather large gash on his forehead. Meanwhile Ginny had warded the compartment to keep the death eaters at bay. Then Arthur showed up with some of the aurors and apparated his children to safety before going back to the battle.

An hour passed before Ron had seen a proper mediwich and by then had lost a lot of blood. Mrs. Weasley didn't seem too happy for that and spent a little while muttering to herself about how Arthur should have taken Ron straight to the hospital before returning to battle.

Mrs. Weasley didn't stay very long, but asked Harry over and over again how he was feeling. He assured her that he was well and thankfully she believed him and left.

Afterwards Harry was left with a box of toys that he refused to look at, he wasn't a little child after all. But as time went by and boredom taunted him, he couldn't help but take a small peak at the contents.

The first thing he noticed was a small broom, he had seen them before at the Quidditch World Cup. Mounting the broom he flew around the kitchen for awhile, careful not to disturb Snape. He got annoyed quickly though, because the broom wouldn't allow him to go any higher than three feet nor do any fancy tricks.

Tossing the broom aside he went back to the box. Pushing a few items aside he burrowed to the bottom until he found a miniature quidditch pitch.

Intrigued he pulled it out and examined it. A small compartment in the base of the pitch opened up and contained the hoops, a trunk with the balls and fourteen players. The set looked old, especially the players who had long beards and large bellies.

Harry set up the hoops and the worked on bringing the players to life. They all seemed excited to play and sprung up into the air. Next Harry worked on opening the trunk to release the balls, but before he could several of the players complained that they were tired and flew to the ground to lay in the grass. Ignoring them, Harry tossed up the quaffle and released the bludgers and snitch. Without the keepers both teams seemed to score easily and some of the men were starting to get angry.

A fight ensued after two of the beaters ran in to each other. Shortly there after all the players were fighting, some hitting each other over the head with their brooms. Frustrated Harry scooped up all of the players and flung them back into the compartment. Even after the pitch was stowed back into the box Harry could hear the players shouting at one another.

Digging through the box once again Harry found a rubber ball. A simple toy, perhaps he could bounce it against the wall. Not the most exciting thing to do, but at least it might save him from boredom.

He tossed the ball to the nearest wall and waited for it to bounce back at him. The impact with the wall seemed to give the ball a mind of its own. It shot wildly back over Harry's head and hit the opposite wall. From there it turned to smack the ceiling. Picking up speed as it went along, it started ricocheting all over the place. Harry tried as best he could to catch the ball, but it was just too fast.

Flying past Snape's face the ball turned when it seemed to notice all of the potions. Horrified Harry realized the ball wanted to knock over the cauldrons.

_Oh Merlin_, Harry thought, _Snape is not going to like this!_

Before the ball hit a single cauldron Snape's hand flew out with catlike reflexes. He snatched the ball in mid air and then held it out to Harry. He said, "Perhaps you should take this upstairs."

"Right," Harry said nervously. He took the ball and walked upstairs. He wasn't really sure if he wanted to throw the ball again, but he did anyway. It bounced around the entrance hall crazily and after a short while Harry gave up trying to catch it.

He went back up to his room to see if Hedwig were around. He envied her ability to escape the house and fly. His room was empty, but he decided to look out the window just in case she was flying near.

He had to push his heavy trunk all the way to the wall just under the window. Even standing on top of it he was still a bit short, so he pilled up his pillows as well- it seemed like such a logical idea.

Now his head could peak out, but he wanted to see more. So he held onto the window frame and pulled his body up. He had a perfectly sensible plan to sit on the windowsill. It wasn't until half his body was hanging out the window that he realized he might fall. He teetered there momentarily, contemplating just how to get out of this tight spot, but he didn't have to think long.

Snape pulled him down from the window and set him on the floor. Snape stared at the boy for a minute and then quickly warded the window.

"Please tell me you weren't trying to jump out," Snape snapped.

"No," Harry explained, "I was just looking for Hedwig."

"And you didn't stop and think about the dangers of climbing out the window?"

Harry knew the answer to that, no he didn't think. But he wasn't about to admit the fact, so he changed the subject. "How is it you knew I was in danger," Harry asked, "I mean the window and earlier the stairs. Are you spying on me or something?"

"Potter, I merely have to wait five minutes, that's more than enough time for you to do something stupid."

Harry was beginning to feel sad whenever Snape called him Potter- it was like the man was waffling back and forth- still deciding whether or not to like him. "I'm sorry," Harry said meekly. And then he vowed to himself that he wouldn't do anything stupid again.

xxxxx

After dinner Harry decided to go straight to bed, even though it was early he was really over tired. It seemed as though no time had passed at all between his head hitting the pillow and his first dream.

_He was back at Privet Drive, he was eleven and it was his first night home after returning from school. Uncle Vernon had already locked up Hedwig and his trunk, but at least Harry had his photo album- the one that Hagrid had made for him. In bed, with only the light glow from the stars outside, Harry watched his parents dance. He fell asleep that night, clutching the album._

Waking back at Grimmauld Place Harry crawled out of bed. He had a nagging feeling that he had forgotten something. He opened up his trunk and started pulling things out haphazardly. Frantically he dug; it had to be in there somewhere.

Reaching the bottom of the trunk Harry started to feel desperate. "No!" he cried. He started to sift back through the things he'd tossed on the floor; "it has to be here. I wouldn't leave it." His heart sank when he realized it was on his bed, under his pillow- like it always was. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, he knew he had to get it back.

His door opened and Snape stepped in. "What's wrong Harry," the man asked.

"I have to go," Harry informed him. "Back to the Dursleys, I forgot something. You have to take me back."

"I don't have to do anything," Snape snapped, but then he continued in a gentler tone. "Just tell me what you forgot and I'll add it to list of supplies I'm getting at Diagon Alley."

"My photo album," Harry shouted back through his tears. "Can you pick up pictures of my mum and dad? We have to go get it, the Dursleys are at St. Mungos, and they won't bother us. Please Snape, we have to go get it."

"Calm down Harry," Snape commanded. Harry tried to stop crying, but all he managed to do was start breathing weird. "Here, drink this," Snape said handing Harry a small vial. Without thinking he drank the contents. "Now Harry, I'll see what I can do about your photo album." Snape was picking him up now, carrying him back to bed- Harry was surprised at how sleepy he was. Tucking him in Snape continued, "About your relatives Harry, they woke up the night of the full moon and demanded to go home."

Harry tried react; he wanted more information. But a moment later he was fast asleep.

xxxxx

That morning Harry woke up to Snape poking his shoulder. "Wake up," Snape commanded.

"What's wrong," Harry asked regaining consciousness. He pulled on his glasses quickly and was ready to flee if they were in danger.

"Get dressed," Snape commanded. "We're going out."

Before Harry could completely register what was going on Snape had stepped out of the room. Alone Harry noticed a pile of neatly folded clothes at the end of his bed, along with a black robe and a pair of shinny black shoes. Aside from the white undershirt, everything was black. After putting the outfit on, Harry felt like a miniature version of Snape. He tried to stalk around the room and watch the robes billow, but couldn't seem to get it right.

Remembering the time- he wasn't sure how long it had taken to dress- he sprinted out of the room and ran all the way down the stairs.

Out of breath and panting Harry asked, "Where are we going?"

"Sit down and eat," Snape commanded. Harry sat down right away, but he had to breathe a bit before he started to eat his toast. "We are going to Diagon Alley to get a few supplies."

"You mean my school supplies?" Harry was so excited he couldn't sit still in his chair.

"No, Molly Weasley has already done that," Snape corrected. "There are a few things that I need."

"Oh," Harry was feeling a little less excited and a bit more confused, "then why are you taking me along?"

"I told Albus about your little theatrics. His golden boy, nearly falling out the window in a desperate attempt for air… Well after that he insisted I take you along."

Harry thought for a moment, he felt a bit angry over Snape's 'golden boy' comment, but overall the statement didn't add up. "I find that hard to believe," Harry said finally. Snape raised an eyebrow so Harry continued. "What I mean sir, is that it's more likely Dumbledore would tell you to ward all the windows or something like that. Me staying alive, that's more important than… more important than other things." Harry had meant to say 'than me being happy,' but he didn't want to get into feeling abandoned at the Dursleys'.

Thankfully Snape didn't try to pry any further. He didn't deny Harry's comment either, instead he changed the subject completely. "Time for the glamour charm," he said.

"What!" Harry asked, he nearly choked on his last bit of toast.

Snape lifted Harry out of the chair and set him down on the table. "A glamour charm," Snape replied, "you don't really think I'd be caught wandering the street with a little five year old Harry Potter."

"Well I didn't think I would be going out at all," Harry retorted.

In between different charms Snape explained, "if anyone should inquire; you're a Dempsey Collins, from a pureblood family in Ireland."

"Dempsey, what kind of name is Dempsey," Harry asked.

Snape replied, "Do you want to go or not?"

"Yes, I want to go," Harry said with a sigh.

"No one will inquire about you heritage," Snape continued. "There are many families in Ireland who like their privacy. Your father paid for some private tutoring in potions, so you've been staying with me for the past month."

"A five year old, receiving tutoring in potions?"

"Ah, pureblood families would pay a lot to help usher their offspring ahead. I get offers all the time."

"But you haven't taken the up before," Harry said but then reconsidered, "have you?"

"No," Snape replied, "Spend my summers with yet more children? Adolescents are bad enough." Harry was about to ask more questions, but then Snape announced, "done."

Snape transfigured a plate into a mirror so Harry could see his face. His hair was blonde now, although slightly darker than a Malfoy. His features were all a bit sharper than before and his skin was paler. He didn't look anything like himself; even his eyes were changed to blue. Harry touched their reflection and for some reason he felt bothered by the difference.

"Is something wrong?" Snape asked.

"No, I like it. So can we go now?" Harry jumped off the table and ran over to the floo.

"Yes. But one last thing before we go." Snape's voice became very stern as he continued; "you better behave yourself. Otherwise we're apparating straight back here- don't make me regret this. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded and then added, "yes sir."

xxxxx

Harry was surprised when Snape took his hand and they flooed to Diagon Alley together. On second thought, Harry realized that a five year old flooing alone would likely attract a lot of attention. Looking around Harry remembered that he had never flooed into Diagon Alley before. The last time he tried he had ended up in Borgin and Burkes- an experience he didn't want to repeat any time soon. Now he found himself in a busy floo station, with people coming in from places all over the world.

A million questions flooded to his mind at the same time. He wanted to explore everything, but a tight grip on his hand commanded him to follow. Once on the street Harry opened his mouth to talk.

"Where are we going first," Harry asked excitedly. He was having trouble containing himself; he wished Snape would let go so he could run ahead and look in the shop windows. "Oh can we go to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes?" Snape was glaring at him now, Harry guessed why, and tried to cover up his slip. "I um heard of the store, in Ireland- um a friend told me." Harry finally shut up when it seemed Snape was ready to apparate at any moment.

Snape glared at Harry for a while more, probably deciding whether or not to just go. Finally he released his tight grip and Harry shoved his hands into pockets. Quietly they walked until they reached the Apothecary.

Inside the store Harry was surprised at how many interesting things were on the bottom shelves that he had never noticed before. A glass jar held some sort of live creature, Harry swore he saw it swim by the label. It was now hiding back in the murky depths, so Harry reached out to examine the container.

"Touch nothing," his Professor warned. Quickly Harry shoved his hands back into his pockets and vowed inwardly to control himself. It seemed as though no time at all had passed before they were back on the street again. Snape had a small package and was muttering something to himself about the incompetence of the clerk.

Harry was feeling pretty proud of himself as they went from store to store. He stayed close by Snape's side and didn't put up a fuss about anything, even when they passed by the Weasley's store without entering.

They reached the end of the street and started walking up the other side. Even though they had gone to dozens of stores, Snape carried only a small collection of packages. Harry was glad that they were walking back to the floo station. By now his legs were tired and his stomach growled.

Walking past Knockturn Alley Harry cringed and was glad they weren't going down there. But he was surprised when Snape stopped and pulled him over to a lamppost.

"You are to wait for me here," Snape commanded.

"What, you're leaving me here all alone?" Harry asked with a hint of fear.

"Oh toughen up, you'll be fine."

"But… but what about-"

Snape cut him off by grabbing Harry by the front of the robe and quickly pulled him close. Harry expected Snape to start yelling at him, or threatening him. But he was surprised when Snape merely whispered sternly into his ear, "Molly and Arthur Weasley are in Flourish and Blotts. Charlie Weasley is at Gringotts and the Weasley twins are in their shop. Kingesly Shacklebolt is holding an Auror meeting over at the café," Harry tried to look in the direction of the café; he hadn't noticed the Aurors before. "If you are in danger, all you have to do is shout out for help. Run to any of them, they know what you look like and are watching over you." Snape pushed Harry back over to the post and spoke louder, "is that understood?"

"Yes sir," Harry replied.

He watched Snape disappear down the alley and then looked back over to the café. Sure enough Kingsley sat with a group of aurors. Harry recognized Tonks and Jo, but the others he couldn't remember seeing before. Looking further down the street Harry was sure that he saw Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick stepping out of Obscurus Books. He tried to get a closer look at them, but someone tapped his shoulder.

Turning around Harry was surprised to find himself looking up at Hermione. For a moment he wanted to give her a big hug and say how much he missed her.

"Little boy," Hermione said sweetly, "are you lost?"

"No," Harry replied. He looked past Hermione's shoulder and saw an impatient Ron.

"Where are your Mum and Dad?" Hermione asked. Harry didn't know how to reply so he tried to back off a bit. Hermione continued, "why are you all alone?"

"I'm waiting for someone," Harry said quickly. He looked nervously towards Knockturn Alley and wished Snape would be back soon.

"Do you mind if I wait with you?" It was clear that Hermione wasn't going to leave Harry alone.

"Oh come on," Ron said with a sigh.

"I can't just leave the little boy all by himself," Hermione shouted back. Ron blushed and shoved his hands into his pockets. Hermione turned back to Harry and continued in her sweet voice. "How about I buy you some ice cream at Flourean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor?" Harry thought about it for a minute, ice cream sounded nice, but he knew he shouldn't wander off. "See it's right here," Hermione pointed, "we could sit at that table, its only a few meters away."

Hermione had a point; he was practically standing right in front of the ice cream parlor. His stomach grumbled- he really was hungry too. "Okay," Harry said taking Hermione's hand.

Ron looked annoyed, but didn't say anything as they walked over to the table. Hermione and Harry sat down as Ron went in to buy them ice cream.

"My name is Hermione, what's yours?"

"Dempsey," Harry said quickly, "Dempsey Collins, I'm from Ireland." He realized he didn't need to say so much information and blushed. He was beginning to feel really nervous, he was sure Hermione would recognize him if he talked too much.

Thank fully Ron returned with the ice cream and Harry dug in. The teens watched the small boy start shoving large spoonfuls into his mouth. They looked at each other, shrugged and started eating as well.

Every couple of bites Harry would turn and glance back at the Alley, nearing the end of the bowl he knew Snape would return at any minute. He was just about to excuse himself when he was pulled up by the ear.

"I told you to wait by the lamppost," Snape snapped.

"I'm sorry sir," Harry cried. He attempted to pull Snape's hand away from his ear; the grip was so tight that it hurt.

"Professor Snape," Hermione shouted. Harry completely forgot they were there. "Is that anyway to treat a child?"

Snape released Harry's ear and grabbed him by the shoulder. Hermione sat down quickly after Snape glared in her direction. Harry tried to say something, but he was yanked away.

Moments later Harry found himself in a public bathroom. It was completely empty and Snape warded the door. Harry was so scared he hardly realized he was still uttering his apologies.

"What did you think you were doing," Snape spat. "going for ice cream with a few friends?"

"She came up to me," Harry defended himself. "She wouldn't leave me alone. You know Hermione's like that- sees a little boy and can't help but protect him. I didn't see anything wrong, I just went a few feet away."

"You didn't tell her who you were?"

"No, of course not!" Harry cried. He felt like such an idiot as tears ran down his face. He didn't know why Snape seemed so intimidating now, but he so big and Harry was so small.

Harry rubbed his ear it still felt sore. Snape noticed and continued scolding him, "I told you to wait by the lamppost, I expected you to obey." Harry looked down at his shoes; he couldn't look Snape in the eye. "I'm a death eater, people expect me to be harsh."

Harry looked nervously around the empty bathroom and suddenly wished they were back on the street. He didn't know just how 'harsh' Snape was meaning to get. The man stepped closer to him and Harry backed away.

"Don't be stupid Harry," Snape said as he grabbed Harry's wrist. He lightly touched Harry's ear and inspected it. "I didn't hurt you that bad." Embarrassed Harry tried to wipe the tears out of his eyes. Snape pulled his arms down and said, "don't." Harry looked up at him confused, so Snape explained, "don't wipe your tears away. In fact, when we go out to the street try to look like I hurt you."

Harry nodded to show that he understood, but then remembered, "what about the Aurors?"

"Hopefully they're smart enough to stay out of it," Snape replied.

Snape grabbed Harry by the arm and started to pull him out of the bathroom.

"Are we going back now?" Harry asked before they reached the door.

"One final stop," Snape said opening the door.

Harry blushed when he saw a small crowd of angry wizards standing outside the bathroom. He faked as though he was protecting a sore butt and let the tears run down his cheeks. Snape pulled him down the street quickly and he had to sprint to keep up. They were heading back to the floo station and suddenly Harry was curious as to where they were going to go.

Author's Note:

I hope you liked it…

Coming Soon:

Chapter 9: A Summer's End


	9. A Summer's End

Chapter 9

A Summer's End

Harry kept his mouth shut as they waited in line to use the floo. Most of his energy was spent on remaining calm. It seemed as though his entire body just wanted to jump and squirm out of excitement. Meanwhile his mind raced through countless questions on where they were going and why.

Outwardly Harry appeared subdued and teary eyed, playing his role perfectly. But he wished the line would hurry up and move- he wasn't so sure how long he could wait.

Snape bought a small handful of powder and they stepped up to the floo together. "Arabella Fig's," Snape commanded.

Harry gasped, which was probably a very bad idea at the time. His lungs filled with floo powder and he began to cough violently. All the while he felt the dizzying whorl as he passed through the floo system. Suddenly he was tossed into a room and fell to the floor. He stayed on the ground trying to expel all the dust out of his respiratory system.

"Drink this Harry," said a woman's voice he recognized easily as Mrs. Figg.

Without thinking Harry took the glass of water and drank. Looking around through watering eyes he spotted Mrs. Figg. At the same time he realized he was on his hands and knees in the middle of her living room.

"Thank you," Harry replied, but then quickly asked, "how do you know who I am?"

"Severus informed me earlier of his plans," Mrs. Figg replied patiently.

Standing back up Harry tried in vain to push Mr. Tibbles away from him, but the blasted cat kept returning to rub against his leg.

Harry scanned the room looking for Snape and was startled when he didn't see the man. "Where's... where's," Harry stuttered, he was beginning to panic a bit. Backing up towards the fireplace he continued to ask, "where's Profe-"

A hand grabbed his shoulder and his body instantly tensed. "Calm yourself Potter," Snape commanded.

Harry turned around and blushed; the man was standing right behind him the whole time. Relieved his body visibly relaxed. Although he was ashamed to admit it, Harry was beginning to depend on Snape- he thoroughly trusted the man to take care of him.

"Now Harry," Snape said. "I'm going to go change into some muggle attire. You can go eat lunch with Mrs. Figg."

Harry and Mrs. Figg sat at her table to eat lunch; she had prepared roast beef and cabbage. They talked pleasantly about Harry's classes at school and never strayed to more delicate topics. During the conversation Harry began to regret all the time he spent with Mrs. Figg in the past, not knowing who she truly was. He remembered dreading the visits, having to look at all the photographs of her stupid cats.

After a short while Snape returned and sat down with them. Harry was surprised to see that Snape also filled his plate with a bit of the roast and some cabbage. But didn't spend much time contemplating the matter. Because he was more surprised at the site of his muggle like professor.

Snape had combed back his now clean hair into a tight ponytail. He wore a button down white shirt and a black tie. To finish off the outfit he wore black slacks, but even dressed in muggle attire the man still seemed every bit the greasy git, well without the greasy.

Harry stifled a snigger, but with his hands clasped tightly across his mouth, Snape caught on.

"And what seems to be so amusing Mr. Potter?"

"Oh nothing," Harry said quickly. But Snape glared at him; his expression held much less power. After a moment Harry continued, "it's just… well even in muggle clothes, you don't really look like a muggle.

"I thank you for the complement," Snape replied snidely.

For the next couple minutes they all ate in silence. Harry's plate was empty, he didn't think he could shove another forkful in his mouth.

Snape was done as well and stood up. "Come here Harry," he commanded. "You need to look more muggle yourself."

Snape stood up and rummaged though his robe that was now hung over an extra chair. He pulled out a miniature pile of clothes, expanded them and handed them over to Harry.

"Dress quickly and then we can go."

Harry knew exactly where the downstairs guest bathroom was. He went straight there and changed quickly. After slipping on the shirt easily he spent some extra time trying desperately to snap his jeans shut, but the button was just too hard and his little fingers didn't have the strength.

Giving up he looked up at the small mirror above the sink. He sprinkled a bit of water in his hair and tried to smooth his unruly black hair. It took him awhile to notice that the glamour charm was gone.

Gasping he ran out to the others, carefully holding his trousers up. Reaching the kitchen he started shouting, "Snape, the charm is gone. I look like myself again!"

"Potter calm yourself," Snape snapped. "It was only a temporary one."

"But the death eaters, they'll see me!"

"Oh I highly doubt that, they don't even know where your muggle relatives live."

"So the werewolves," Harry shot back sarcastically, "they were just out for a picnic?"

Snape's face twisted into a scowl. "The werewolves knew where you were, but that doesn't mean they were cognizant of the area around them."

"But you were tracking them and Hagrid was as well. Isn't it logical that Voldemort would also?"

"He didn't," Snape replied. Harry looked back at him doubtfully so the man continued; "The Dark Lord didn't find it necessary, he was sure they would get you."

"Well that's just stupid."

Snape's scowl softened, "He's arrogant Harry."

Not ready to give up Harry said, "What about that blast, you said it marked the house. And then the dementors, last year- they knew where the house was."

"Trust me Harry, the Dark Lord does not know where your muggle relatives live."

Harry considered asking him in a snarky tone, 'Well how do you know?' But before the words could leave his mouth he realized the answer. Snape was the spy, he would know. But he still wanted to know why both the dementors and the werewolves could find him while Voldemort didn't know where he lived- it didn't make sense.

Snape interrupted his thoughts and said, "Now do you want to go and get your photo album or not? I have a lot of things to do this afternoon and we've wasted to much time already."

"Yes I want to go," Harry said quietly. He hated giving in to Snape, but then started to wonder why he was concerned anyway. He trusted the man to protect him; maybe he was just tired.

Harry turned to go to the door but Snape called him back. "What's wrong with your trousers?" he asked. The boy looked down and blushed. "Are they too big?"

"Err, no," Harry couldn't admit it to the man, he just couldn't. He was hoping to pull Mrs. Figg aside and ask her to help him, but he forgot. "Thesnapistoohard," he said on one quick voice.

"What?" Snape demanded. "I didn't hear you. Look at me and speak clearly."

Harry looked up; his face felt like it was burning from the embarrassment. "The snap is too hard," Harry admitted.

"Come here," Snape commanded.

Harry walked over slowly dragging his heals the whole time. Once he was close enough Snape bent down and snapped the button for him. The man was so fast that Harry hardly new what happened. Relieved that the ordeal was over, he followed Snape out the door. The whole time he prayed inwardly that he would be able to live down all of the summer's embarrassing moments.

The left Mrs. Figg's house after a short good bye and strolled quietly down Wisteria Walk.

Turning onto Privet Drive Harry's heart filled with a dread. He had his hands shoved into his pockets; they were balled into tight clammy fists. Seeing his relatives again did not seem appealing, but he had to get his photo album back.

Snape broke the silence, "Now Harry, they will probably be a bit shocked to see your five year old self, so don't be startled by their reaction."

"Oh don't worry, I'm used to it," Harry said calmly. "I mean they always looked at me like I was a freak… won't be much different now."

Harry was mulling it over in his head. He grinned mischievously- Snape was right, they would be shocked. Harry had a plan; he could go in there and act like nothing was amiss… That would set the Durlseys off for sure.

Reaching number four Harry stopped Snape from knocking. "No sir, I'll go in on my own. You just wait here. I'll run up, get my album, and then come right back."

Snape studied the boy for a moment, contemplating the request. Harry tried to mask his face to appear impartial.

"Just call out if you need me," Snape replied calmly.

Harry nodded and opened the door. Stepping in he shut the door behind him and looked around. He tried to step carefully, but it was too hard not to traipse all over the mail. A large pile covered the entryway; it seemed as though they hadn't bothered to look at the letters in weeks.

Instincts were screaming at him, telling him something was definitely off. Rationally he knew he should turn back and tell Snape, but stubbornly he decided to continue on his own.

As he passed by the living room he peaked in through the door. He was surprised to see that all three Dursleys were in fact in there. But they were so quiet, if he didn't actually see them with his eyes, he would have sworn the room was empty.

Uncle Vernon sat in his chair reading his newspaper. Aunt Petunia sat on the couch staring at the blank television while her left hand rested softly on Dudley's massive shoulder. Meanwhile Dudley sat on the ground, schoolbooks outstretched on the coffee table; he appeared to be studying.

Harry watched them for a little while; something was not right- besides the fact that Dudley never did his homework. Their eyes were fixed in one place; they never shifted their positions. His family reminded him of mannequins used in store windows.

Despite the fact Harry could feel the hair on the back of his neck rising, telling him that something was very wrong, he continued to walk in the room. He couldn't pass up the opportunity to shock them, he just couldn't.

Walking into the room, he strolled over to the telly and turned it on. He was surprised that he had made it so far without even a wayward glance from his relatives. But he was even more bewildered when they didn't even respond to the sounds of the telly.

"Hello, I'm home," Harry announced. Still none of them looked up at him.

Harry was beginning to feel frustrated; they wouldn't even acknowledge his presence. He walked over to Uncle Vernon, touched the man lightly on the knee and asked, "Uncle Vernon?"

Reading the date on the newspaper Harry was confused when he noticed it was over a week old. Suddenly the newspaper was whisked out of site and was replaced by a now livid Uncle Vernon.

Harry quickly recoiled his hand as Vernon reached out to grab him. "You boy," the man shouted, "I'm gonna kill you!"

Harry didn't understand- why wasn't Uncle Vernon shocked that he was now five years old again? He didn't have much time to contemplate the matter. The man was standing now, fists clenched.

Darting out of the room Harry sprinted to the kitchen. He wasn't sure what he was doing, he just knew he had to get away.

Vernon followed him with a shocking speed. Harry dropped to all fours and tried to scurry under the table, but his Uncle caught him by the ankle and pulled him out. Harry tried to hold on to the chairs, but they slid with him and ended up crashing to the floor. Harry looked up in time to see a large fist swinging at him and managed to maneuver his head out of the way. As the fist hit the floor Harry could hear his Uncle's bones cracking under the force.

It was a sickening sound, but it brought him back to his senses. Harry needed help. "Snape!" Harry yelled out as loud as he could.

Vernon ignored his bloody fist; he didn't react to the pain at all. He was in an awkward position though and clumsily tried to right himself before attacking again. Meanwhile Harry took the opportunity to escape his grasp and crawled under the table to the other side of the room. The table was no obstacle for Vernon, with abnormal strength he knocked it out of the way.

In Vernon's eyes, Harry recognized the evil glare. He was trapped, there was no where else to run. "Snape! Snape! Help me Snape!" he yelled in a panic.

His Uncle raised his fist again as Harry raised his arms to protect his face. But when no blow came Harry looked up to see Snape had a hold of the man's arm. Vernon fought at the wizard's hold like a wild animal. Snape had to wrap his free arm around Vernon's massive body in order to prevent him from lunging forward.

As much as Uncle Vernon fought against Snape's restraint, it was obvious the man was not going to get away. Suddenly Vernon crumbled to the floor, screaming in pain. Snape nearly toppled down on top of the man, but was able to right himself. Holding out his wand, he stood over the body that was now writhing in pain.

The screams were sickening; Vernon sounded as if he were suffering from the Cruciatus Curse. Harry covered his ears, "stop Snape please," Harry pleaded. "Uncle Vernon has never hurt me like this before."

"I'm not doing this," Snape replied and continued to do a few more examining spells. "Harry get out of here, hide."

Harry hesitated, but Snape grabbed him by the collar, lifted him over Vernon's body and nearly tossed him across the room. Quickly Harry got to his feet and ran out to the hall. He didn't know where else to go, so he went to his cupboard and hid.

It didn't take long for the screaming to stop, but Harry didn't dare open the door. He waited patiently as he heard two men walk by the cupboard calmly. A moment later he heard one man emerge from the living room.

"Harry?" Snape called quietly.

Tentatively Harry pushed open the door and peaked out.

Spotting him Snape came over and got down to one knee. Analyzing Harry closely he asked in a voice barely above a whisper, "Are you okay?"

Harry nodded, besides feeling completely terrified he was fine. "What happened Snape? Uncle Vernon has never done anything like that before."

"I'm not sure," Snape replied. "But we should go." He took Harry's arm and started to walk to the front door.

Harry pulled away and said, "wait, sir- my photo album." Snape followed Harry up the stairs to Dudley's second bedroom. Harry was happy to see everything was exactly how he left it. Finding the album easily he tucked it under his arm. Without thinking he took Snape's hand and they walked back downstairs. Safely protected on Snape's left side, they passed by living room. Harry quickly glanced back and was surprised to see that Vernon was once again sitting, reading his newspaper- bloody hand completely ignored.

xxxxx

Before flooing back to Grimmauld Place, Snape and Harry gathered up their clothes. Harry was sad to see that Mrs. Figg's cat Snowy found his black robe to be a comfortable place to nap. She left behind white hair all over the robe and it was hard to pluck it all off. Resigned Harry clutched his robe closely and followed Snape over to the floo.

This time when Snape tossed in the powder Harry kept his mouth tightly shut. Back at Grimmauld Place, Snape and Harry went their separate ways for the afternoon, both disappearing into their rooms. Despite the cat hair Harry decided to dress back into the outfit Snape had gotten him, robes and all.

He sat on his bed examining the miniature trunk Ron had given him. He figured out that if he slammed the trunk down three times another chamber would open up. This one was filled with chocolate frogs. He also found another chamber after he stroked the lid, but this one didn't have any candy in it.

After a short time Snape came to his door, knocked quietly and said, "Harry it's time for dinner."

"Yes sir," Harry replied as he put the trunk done on the bedside table.

He followed Snape downstairs to the kitchen and sat down to eat. In between bites Harry would pull another white hair off his robe, eventually he would get it all.

At first Snape tried to ignore Harry's behavior, but after awhile he grew annoyed.

"Potter," Snape snapped, "come here."

Harry cringed. Whenever Snape called him by his surname he felt his heart stop. Harry expected at any moment Snape would come to his senses and begin to hate him again. And when Snape called him 'Potter,' he always thought that moment had come. He tried to remind himself that he hated Snape- after all the things the man had done to him. But in the end he realized something had changed between the two of them since he had transfigured into a baby. But would it last? Could he trust Snape?

Slowly he got out of his chair, feet dragging as he walked around the table to Snape. He felt so foolish, where was his Gryffindor bravery?

Casually Snape lifted his wand at the now cowering boy. After saying a quick vanishing spell all the white hair disappeared from the black robes.

Seeing his now clean robes Harry blushed. "Thank you sir!" he said as he returned to his chair.

They continued to eat in silence. Harry's mood was now much brighter. He actually looked forward to working on essays while Snape brewed his potions.

Snape broke the mood by saying, "I have finished your potion, you will take it tomorrow."

"Err… right." Harry's stomach churned at the mention of the potion, it seemed way too soon to be taking it yet again. "Will this be the last one?" Harry asked shyly.

"No, but it should age you as far as preadolescence, to about eleven or twelve," Snape explained calmly.

All the while Harry thought back to the last time, the horrible burning pain in his throat and stomach. Surpassed only by the agony of his body stretching out and growing in a matter of minutes. Harry tried to continue to eat, but the food lost all of its taste.

"The day after tomorrow you and I will be taking the train back to Hogwarts for the start of term."

Harry completely forgot about school. How could he be going back there, he would still be deaged. And was he actually growing fond of his time at Grimmauld Place, with Snape… no he was just worried about start of term. He shook off his thoughts of Snape; he couldn't bring himself to care for the man- especially since it was a farce. Snape was being nice to him because he was little, when he got back to school surely the man would throw all the embarrassing moments back into his face. Potions was going to be a horrible class, just like it always was.

"I'm not going back," Harry declared. "I can't, not as a twelve year old-"

"You will do as you're told Potter!" Snape snapped.

Again the phrase 'Potter' sliced through Harry's heart. This time he thought he might cry- he knew it, Snape still hated him.

"B- but sir… my age," he stammered, "I'm still young. What if… I mean how will… I can't go back."

"You have been taking remedial potions with me over the past month. You made a mistake and managed to deage yourself." Harry looked back at Snape confused, but before he could ask a question the man continued. "That is the story that we will announce to the school."

Harry's face reddened, he could hear Draco's insults already. Even Ron would laugh and then he would carry on about how sorry he felt for Harry having to spend his summer with Snape. Hermione would have a good long lecture about how Harry needed to be careful with his potions. Could he explain things to his friends at least? But he knew the answer to that without even having to ask.

Instead he asked, "well what about Dempsey? Ron and Hermione will want to know about him, seeing as how he was your apprentice. And if I've been with you for the summer- then I would of seen him too."

"If you recall," Snape replied, "we never had to use the cover story. Besides your little excursion with your friends no one paid much attention to us."

"Little excursion," Harry mocked under his breath. Anger was boiling up inside of him, threatening to spill out. "Well they're still going to ask about Dempsey," Harry said through a clenched jaw.

"As I expected," Snape said calmly. "Dumbledore has already explained the matter to them. So they've been told you had deaged to five and came to Diagon Alley with me under disguise. They have been instructed to keep quiet about their knowledge. Also, they don't know anything about the full extent of your deaging nor the true reason for it. And under no circumstances are you to mention anything about it. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir," Harry muttered. But under the stern glare of the Potions Master he spoke more clearly, "I understand sir."

Snape went back to eating. Meanwhile Harry stared at his plate and tried not to think about the upcoming days. Why did everything have to happen to him?

"How long till I can get back to my sixteen year old self?" Harry asked. And then quickly added, "and how many more potions will it take?"

"After tomorrow's potion I believe it will only take one more. But it will be awhile until your potion is ready. Although it is quick to brew, the final ingredient is very scarce. I've exhausted my own supply as well as buying the only vial in London. I'm afraid I will need to grow it myself- and that's only if Hagrid is able to locate a suitable seedling."

Harry groaned. This was going to be a very long school year.

xxxxx

After dinner Harry got to work on his essays, all he had left to do was rewrite some of the essays that had Snape's comments all over them. He tried his hardest not to think about the next few days, but constantly found himself staring down at the paper thinking about nothing.

Exhaustion from the day's activities crept up on him and without realizing it he fell asleep leaning back into the chair. He was only barely aware of his body being lifted up and he slipped back to sleep with his head resting softly on the Potions Master's shoulder. The next thing he knew he was laying flat on a comfortable bed and his shoes were being pulled off. He heard Snape say some strange charm and realized a comfortable pair of pajamas had replaced his clothes. Before he could wake up enough to be embarrassed, a warm blanket was being tucked around him. Within seconds he was back to sleep again.

And as often happens Harry drifted off into a dream. _He was back at Hogwarts, sitting at the great hall eating dinner. His friends were all around him chatting about their summers. Harry couldn't talk, as much as he tried no words came out of his mouth. In frustration he banged his fist down against the table. No one paid any attention to him; it was like he wasn't even there. _

_The force keeping his mouth shut now felt like it was choking him. He needed help- he looked up towards the head table, but now found himself back at the Department of Mysteries; Sirius had his hands wrapped around Harry's neck._

_Harry stared at Sirius' unforgiving face and tried desperately to apologize. The tight grasp released his neck and then grabbed him by the hood of his collar, pulling him to follow. _

_"I'm sorry Sirius," Harry cried._

_With a blink Sirius' face disappeared and was now replaced by Snape's scowl. Harry looked around and realized he was back in the cemetery where Voldemort regained a body._

_"You've failed us Potter," Snape spat as he tossed the boy forward._

_Harry fell to the ground but got up quickly. Looking around he noticed that he was now alone, but he could hear something coming. His scar didn't ache, but his hand flew up to it, like he knew it should hurt. He knew Voldemort was coming and he was alone, Snape had abandoned him._

_"Snape!" Harry yelled as he ran through the cemetery. "Snape come back! Please don't leave me!" He was running as fast as he could, but he wasn't getting anywhere. He knew Voldemort was close behind, he looked back and tripped over a root._

This time when he hit the ground it actually hurt. He was tangled in something and tried to fight his way free. "Snape!" he shouted again, "Snape come back, please don't leave me!"

Something firm gripped his arm and started to pull him out of the twisted mess. Harry let out a scream and fought against his captor. Oddly enough he realized he was being pulled away from his blankets- he had been tangled in them. Suddenly it dawned on him that he had been dreaming.

"It's okay Harry," Snape said soothingly, releasing his grasp on Harry's arm. "I am right here."

Without thinking about it Harry reached out quickly and wrapped his arms around Snape's neck. The man hugged him back and Harry started to cry. He let his legs go limp as the man pulled him up off the ground. Harry buried his face against the man's robe, his dignity be damned- he needed this, he was so afraid.

Snape sat down on the bed; Harry now had both his arms and legs wrapped tightly around the man's body. If Snape were going to rid himself off the boy he would have to pry him off first.

The rhythmical patting of his back followed and Harry felt his fears slipping away. But the less scared he got the more embarrassed he became. _It was too late now_, Harry reasoned, _the damage was already done. Might as well stay and get the most out of it._

Over time he stopped crying and then sniffling. No longer afraid he started to drift back to sleep. As his body relaxed Snape was able to pull the boy off of him and lay him down in the bed.

Harry woke with a start. "Don't go," he pleaded.

"I'm not going anywhere," Snape assured him. But for good measure Harry clung tightly to the man's arm. The reasonable part of him knew he was being childish, but he couldn't bring himself to let go.

The rhythmical patting on his back continued and once again Harry drifted off to sleep. The next morning he woke up, still clinging to the man's arm. He shifted quietly, wondering if Snape was asleep as well.

"Get up and dress," Snape ordered, "it's time for breakfast." The man pulled his arm away and before Harry could respond, he was gone.

Harry dressed quickly and went down to the kitchen. The day progressed much like the others. After toast with Snape Harry went to work finishing his essays while Snape went to work finishing his potions.

Finishing the last essay Harry set his work aside. He wondered how much time that he had until he would have to endure the second potion. Before he could ask Madame Pomfrey stepped out of the floo followed by Dumbledore.

The old wizard gave Harry a weak smile and said, "hello Harry, how are you?"

"Err… well-" Harry didn't know how to respond. At the moment he was fine, but he knew what was coming.

Madame Pomfrey gave Harry a quick examination before nodding to Snape.

"Come along Harry," Snape said, "it's time."

Harry walked very slowly across the room and even slower up the stairs. He was surprised to find that even at the very slow pace they still managed to reach his room.

After Snape's prompting Harry climbed into bed and sat leaning against the headboard. He pulled the covers close just before Snape charmed his clothes away. And then Harry pulled off his glasses and handed them to Snape, who pocketed them.

"Drink as much as you can," Snape commanded as he handed Harry a cup filled with the familiar clear liquid.

Harry stared at it for a moment and then he looked up at Snape. He didn't want to drink it; inwardly he pleaded with Snape to take it away. He wished some unforeseen problem would develop and he could just stay five.

Snape reached out and rested a hand on Harry's leg. That was all the reassurance he needed, in the next moment Harry had the glass to his lips and started to drink.

Again the liquid felt cool all the way down his throat and into his stomach. And just as before it started to itch and then burn. Harry ignored the pain and continued to drink until he couldn't take it anymore.

He tried to pull the cup away from his lips, but Snape caught him and held the cup steady. Harry had no choice to drink otherwise he would choke. He tried to squirm away, flailing his arms and legs, but he couldn't get away. Right as he started to vomit Snape took the cup away.

Harry gasped in a breath just before the pain in his body made his jaw clench shut. He was vaguely aware that Snape had pulled him further down the bed by his legs. Now he lay rigidly as every last tissue in his body grew.

Harry thought he would die, no he knew he would die. The pain was too much- it was consuming him. Again Snape reached out and took hold of his hand; he regained a sense of reality. He knew the pain would pass and slowly it did.

Cautiously Harry flexed his hand under Snape's grasp; as if testing it to make sure the pain wouldn't return. When it didn't Harry got bolder and started to sit up.

Snape helped him up and then asked, "how do you feel?"

"I've been better," Harry mumbled, all he wanted to do now was lay down and sleep.

"Is there any pain?" Snape asked patiently.

Harry had to think about that, he still felt as though the pain would return at any moment. He answered, "no, not right now. I'm just tired."

With his last comment Harry was sure Snape would leave him be to sleep. But instead the man poked him in the ribs. "You need to eat first, you're skin and bones."

Blushing Harry pulled the blankets up to his chin. He was just in time too because Snape opened the door and invited the others in.

Madame Pomfrey performed another quick examination. And then said, "he's dehydrated and malnourished, but otherwise is in good condition." Afterwards Snape handed the woman Harry's glasses and a few spells later they were a perfect match.

With his glasses on the room came into a better focus. Snape conjured a bowl of chicken soup and a mug of pumpkin juice. Obediently Harry started to eat, because he knew as soon as the food was gone he would be allowed to sleep.

Dumbledore walked over and sat on the edge of Harry's bed. "I know you're probably not up to discussing this right now, but I need to inform you of a few things."

Harry sighed; he really wasn't up to arguing anything, so he continued to eat without interrupting the man.

"Professor Snape has already told you about the cover story and I implore you to stick by it. Also you will continue your Occlumency lessons under the cover of Remedial Potions."

Now Harry understood why Dumbledore was explaining this now. The old coot was waiting for him to be tired and too weak to argue back. But as irritating as it was, Harry really didn't have a problem with the lessons. Sure he hated the lessons, but he knew things would be different now. And he welcomed the excuse to see Snape at school.

Dumbledore watched Harry intently waiting for some kind of retort and looked satisfied when none came. Harry wished he could wipe the grin off the old man's face; he didn't want to let Dumbledore win- he actually wanted to do the lessons.

Before he could say anything Dumbledore, the old man excused himself and he and Madame Pomfrey left.

After finishing all of his soup and his entire mug of pumpkin juice Snape took away the dishes. Harry didn't have much strength left for anything else and scooted down the bed in order to lay flat. He fell asleep as he felt the blankets being tucked around him.

After no time at all he was being nudged awake and another bowl of soup was sat before him. This time he had a ham sandwich as well another large mug of pumpkin juice.

He ate quickly, he didn't recall being this tired after the last potion. He supposed that this time he aged more. Before he knew it he was lying back down and drifting back to sleep.

The next morning he woke up and was abashed to find that he was still naked. Thankfully a pile of folded clothes waited on the edge of his bed. He didn't even have to step out from under the covers to retrieve them.

He dressed quickly. Pulling on the muggle jeans he was happy to find that they fit perfectly. Smiling to himself he was pleased to see that his t-shirt was black and so was his jumper. Slipping on his socks and then his shoes he climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom. After washing up a bit he left his room and went down to the kitchen to find Snape.

"Good morning sir," Harry said as he sat down at the table.

"I assume you are well rested," Snape replied.

"Yeah," Harry said quietly. He regretted sleeping through the whole afternoon and then the night. That was the last afternoon he had to spend with Snape and Harry actually found it sad.

Snape pushed a plate of toast in front of Harry; as usual they were buttered and covered with strawberry jam.

"Thank you sir," Harry said.

Snape replied with a nod and then continued, "I took the liberty to pack for you, I've noticed you still have your robes and clothes from years past. I assume those will suffice for school."

"Yeah," Harry replied. He didn't want to think about school.

"After breakfast we will be leaving for the train. I will be taking the Hogwarts Express as well, but I will sit with the Slytherin prefects in order to draw less attention."

"Right," was all Harry managed to reply.

He didn't want to think about what Snape would be telling his little Slytherins, he supposed they'd all have a good laugh over famous Harry Potter.

All the embarrassing moments flashed through Harry's head. _No, Snape wouldn't joke about him, not anymore_, Harry thought, _the man has changed. But what if he hasn't? _

"Please don't tell anyone about, err… well you know," Harry said. He couldn't bring himself to recount all the embarrassing moments with Snape- the man had a lot of dirt he could use against him.

"Don't worry about it Potter," Snape spat. "It's just as dangerous for me if anyone found out."

Harry paled; Snape was just as embarrassed as he was. Again he wished that he didn't have to go. He wanted to sit there and eat toast with Snape and pretend everything was different between the two of them. But he knew nothing had changed, their relationship was the same, to Snape Harry was still the arrogant Boy-Who-Lived. But Harry knew he would never view Snape as just a greasy git again.

Author's Note:

Sorry it took so long to update. I've been really busy at school, with the end of the quarter and all. Next week is dead week and then finals, so it might take 2 weeks or so for the next update as well.

And I'm also sorry for all of you who wished that the baby harry or five year old Harry could last longer, but I didn't want it to be the complete focus of the story- just sort of a catalyst to get Harry and Snape on better terms.

Anyway I hope you enjoyed… tell me what you think…

Updated about 12 hrs after original posting- After sunsethill's really good review I changed the last sentence to reflect more of what I was meaning to say.

Coming Soon:

Chapter 10: Start of Term


	10. Start of Term

Chapter 10

Start of Term

xxxxx

Snape and Harry finished eating breakfast in silence.

When he was done, Harry went up to his room and glanced quickly to see if everything was packed away in his trunk. Satisfied, he pulled his trunk down the stairs. Being much smaller now he struggled with its weight. Reaching the kitchen, Harry sat down at the table to rest and wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. Seconds later he was back up to go and retrieve Hedwig's cage.

"Why did you bring the trunk all the way down here?" Snape asked before Harry could go back up the stairs.

"Um, I thought we were leaving now," Harry said, pointing towards the floo.

"We can walk to King's Cross. It's only twenty minutes away."

Groaning Harry returned to his trunk and started to lug it back up the stairs.

"What are you doing now?" Snape snapped.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Harry snapped right back.

"Watch your tone," Snape scolded. Pulling out his wand Snape waved it and the trunk shrank. "You are a wizard, Potter. Use your head."

Pocketing his trunk, Harry muttered to himself, "I'm not allowed to do magic out of school, but, of course, I should have shrunk it. That way I could be expelled— just like you've always wanted. If I just had my wand—" Harry gasped! He hadn't thought about his wand in a long time. _When was the last time he saw it? _He looked around frantically as if it might just be lying somewhere along the floor. "My wand! Where's my wand!"

Snape meet Harry's panicked eyes with an amused look on his face. After letting the boy worry a bit more, Snape pulled Harry's wand out of his robe pocket.

"I was wondering when you would ask about this," Snape said as he handed it over.

Quickly, Harry snatched it away and inspected it closely to make sure it was unharmed.

"And no, I did not want you to do magic," Snape corrected. Harry blushed; he hadn't thought Snape could actually make out what he was saying. "However, you could have asked for assistance, since you clearly needed some."

In response, Harry settled on a snort. And instead of muttering this time, he kept his thoughts to himself. He slipped his wand into a pocket and then sprinted back up to his room to get Hedwig's cage.

Entering his room, he found Hedwig perched on his windowsill looking out at the beautiful day.

"Hey Hedwig," Harry said sweetly. Biting his bottom lip in anticipation, he slowly reached out to stroke the bird's back. He let out a breath when she didn't fly away from him.

Hedwig turned around to look at Harry and nipped lovingly at his fingers. She gave him a hoot that resembled "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, girl." Harry scratched her neck as she leaned in to the perfect position. "So, would you like to fly to the school or come with me on the train?"

Hedwig leapt of the windowsill and flew over to her cage. She climbed in and pulled the door closed.

"You're coming with me then," Harry said, as he picked up the cage.

He found Snape, arms folded, waiting impatiently at the base of the stairs. The man didn't acknowledge Harry's arrival; instead, he opened the door and walked out. Harry contemplated staying put, to be difficult, to force Snape into asking him to come along. But, in the end, Harry quietly followed.

As they walked silently to King's Cross, Harry suddenly wanted to turn around and run back to Grimmauld Place. He never thought he would miss it— of all places. Of course, he realized it wasn't the house he would miss, but, rather, the relationship he had formed there. Towards the end, he had found Snape's company not only bearable, but also desirable. Now, what would he do when he had a nightmare? Well even if he stayed at Grimmauld Place, he was too old to be coddled, but someone to rely on would be nice.

Harry knew he had lost Snape. _Not that I ever **had** him!_ He tried to remind himself just why he hated the Potion's Master so much, but all it did was make him sad.

No one loved him. The Durlseys never had— to them he was just an abnormal, good-for-nothing, freak. And they were family; they were supposed to love him.

He did have his friends, but that was different. He loved them and they loved him, but friends were friends.

He wanted more, a family, someone to hold him when he was sad or to scold him when he was bad. Someone, who could tell him that it was okay, it was okay to be scared.

And he was scared, so scared that he was ashamed. How could he Voldemort? How could he defeat this man— was he even a man anymore?

Of course, he had had his parents once. He knew they had loved him. But they had died because of it and left him all alone when he was just a baby.

And then Sirius had loved him, but a lot of good that did. The man ended up dying because of it. The guilt Harry felt over this was almost too much to bear. He wouldn't accept it— he couldn't. He knew there must be a way to get him back. Sirius' death was just too easy. Who falls and dies just like that? Harry would never give up. Once he was back at school, he would search every inch of the library looking for a way to get his godfather back. And he would have to do it all on his own; he couldn't trust anyone to help. He was deathly afraid that someone would say that rescuing Sirius was hopeless.

A hand reached up and pulled him by the forearm, jerking him out of his thoughts. Harry looked up to realize that they had reached the train station. Numbly, he followed the tug on his arm as he was pulled to the divider between platforms nine and ten.

"Go," Snape ordered.

"Wait," Harry said, looking back at Snape. This was his last chance to make things up, to salvage any sort of relationship. Harry looked Snape square in the eye and was met with a rather frightening glare. Bravely, he ignored the look and said, "I'm really sorry … about what I said." Harry waited for some sort of reaction from the man, but only the glare continued. "And I… I wanted to thank you, … er for everything." Still Snape had no reaction, and as every ever of silence passed, Harry felt worse. In one final effort, Harry said, "It's just, when we return to school… I don't want… I don't—"

But Harry couldn't finish his statement, because the Potions Master's hand had twisted him around and was now pushing him through the divider to platform nine and three quarters.

"I don't want to lose contact with you," Harry said as he stepped out of the magical barrier. But when he turned around Snape was gone.

Startled, Harry looked around frantically. He was a little relieved when he could see Snape's head bobbing through the crowd, but at the same time he felt crushed. For a moment, he knew that he would start crying, but he was interrupted by a great big hug.

"Hey ya mate," a rather large Ron Weasley said.

Ron released his tight grip and Harry was able to breath, briefly. Another set of arms wrapped around him as Hermione said, "we've missed you so much. And there's loads we've got to tell you."

"We better get on the train first," Ginny warned. Harry blushed when she went to hug him, as she too was now taller than he was.

Ron took Hedwig's cage from Harry in order to help him. They stepped onto the train quickly and found an empty car.

"Harry, we've gotten permission to stay with you during the trip," Hermione said as she sat down. Harry sighed in relief. Usually Ron and Hermione would have to ride with the prefects.

"Oh hey and guess what? Ginny's a prefect!" Ron boasted.

Beaming with pride, Ginny turned to show Harry the prefects badge on her robes.

"That's great, Ginny," Harry acknowledged.

Before Ron could stow away Hedwig's cage, Harry let the bird out so she could ride on his knee. He sat down in the seat nearest the window, and waited for the others to settle in. Ron sat across from him, Ginny at Ron's side and Hermione sat next to Harry.

"So, tell me, what have you been up to?" Harry asked.

"Oh, well we have loads to tell you. But first, Harry, what happened to you?" Hermione asked.

"Um… er. I thought Dumbledore told you."

"He did," Ron said, leaning in close to whisper, "but we figured there was more to the truth."

At that, Harry laughed. They all looked back at him both confused and a little miffed. "There always is with Dumbledore," Harry clarified. "He always tells half the truth."

"I knew it!" Hermione exclaimed. She waited on the edge of her seat, ready to hear more of the juicy details.

To everyone's dismay, Harry said, "I can't tell you. I promised not to. I'm sorry guys, I really am. But we all need to stick with the story they've come up with." _As crappy as it may be_, Harry added to himself. He was not looking forward to the welcoming feast. Everyone laughing at him…

"How long will it take before you get back to your normal age?" Ginny asked.

"Snape said it might take awhile, because he's run out of some ingredient and he's probably going to need to grow it. So, I'm stuck looking like I'm twelve."

"More like eleven," Ron added. "I'm sorry mate, but you look like you did when I first met you."

"Just great, I look like a first year!" Harry whined.

"So did you really have to stay with Professor Snape?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah—"

"Oh, that must have been awful, Harry," Ron said. "To spend half your summer with the greasy git." By now, Ron was making gagging motions as if he might sick up. Normally, this would have made Harry laugh, but really, he felt a little angry.

"Snape wasn't that bad," Harry corrected.

"Not that bad?" Ron choked.

"Yeah, I mean he was there for me_," took care of me… held me when I was scared_…. He wanted to tell them everything, but at the same time he was embarrassed. He was sixteen, after all. Besides, he had been told to keep quiet about everything. "Look, I can't explain it, but trust me, Snape isn't that bad."

"I suppose he could be better than your relatives," Hermione suggested.

"Well, they're really not hard to beat," Harry said. "At least with Snape, I could eat everyday."

"Why did you leave the Dursley's anyway?" Ron asked. "You don't really need remedial potions, do you?"

"No!" Harry shouted, with more gusto then he originally intended. "Er… well." He wished he could take that statement back. He was supposed to stick by the cover story, after all. "Don't tell anyone I said that."

"Of course we won't Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "We knew you didn't have to take Remedial Potions. We thought that you might be doing something with Occlumency again."

He pondered over telling them the truth, about the Dursley's at least. No one said he couldn't discuss his relatives. He just had to keep quiet about his deaging. "Look, I don't know if I'm allowed to tell you about this, but well… well they never said I couldn't. Something weird happened to the Dursleys."

Harry paused, and so Ginny prompted, "Like what?"

He wanted to say, 'It all started with the werewolves…' but decided to keep his mouth shut about that as well. Instead he settled on, "Well, for a while they were a bit catatonic and stayed in St. Mungo's. And then one day," _after the full moon,_ "they woke up and demanded to go home. When Snape took me back there to get something… they acted really strange. First, they didn't even acknowledge me. And then, when I touched my uncle's knee, he came alive with rage— chased after me like some sort of wild animal. If Snape hadn't been there, I don't know what would have happened. As soon as Snape intervened, Uncle Vernon dropped to the ground and screamed in pain."

Hermione gasped, "What did Snape do?"

"He didn't do anything," Harry answered. "And my uncle didn't stop screaming until after I left the room. Before we returned to Grimmauld Place, I saw that he had returned to the couch and was just sitting there. Like nothing had happened at all. I'm telling you guys—it was really weird. I mean they all just sat there, like they were programmed to do so… or something like that."

"Programmed?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, sorry, muggle-term," Harry explained. "They acted like they were under control, sort of like the Imperious Curse."

"And you two just left them there?" Hermione asked. "Alone?"

"Well…" Harry hadn't thought about it. What did become of his relatives? "I suppose Snape contacted someone about it… did something. I didn't think to ask."

"You didn't think to ask?" Hermione repeated. "But why?"

"If they were my relatives," Ron defended. "I wouldn't care to ask about them either."

A part of Harry agreed; he didn't really care about the Dursleys. But their situation was really odd and no doubt directly related to one of Voldemort's plots. Harry hadn't thought about a lot of things, though. Perhaps that was a result of his deaging. Besides, at the time, he had Snape there to take care of things for him.

"I trust that Snape must have done something," Harry said. "And I'll ask him later what he did."

"So you trust Snape now?" Ron asked, sounding a bit confused.

"Yeah … er well, I guess," Harry replied nervously. "I know he'd never allow anyone to hurt me."

"But what about in Diagon Alley?" Ron asked, "I saw him pull you up by the ear. I mean, at the time, I didn't know it was you, but Dumbledore explained..."

"Yeah, and then we saw you leaving the bathroom," Hermione added. "And you looked, well… er."

Now everyone was blushing, Harry worst of all.

"It was an act," Harry said quickly. "Snape said he was supposed to appear harsh. And I just pretended that he hurt me. He didn't hurt me at all. I did a pretty good job of it though, didn't I? Sure fooled you guys!"

"Are you sure?" Ron pressed.

"Of course I'm sure. I was there. Remember? Snape did not hurt me. He would never hurt me. I trust him."

Ron looked back at him confused, but he didn't press the issue. The others all appeared lost for words and settled upon staring blankly across the compartment.

"So, tell me, what's been happening with you?" Harry said, breaking the silence.

"Well, Ron, you should start with your story," Hermione said looking over to Ron.

"Ginny and I went to visit Charlie in Romania. And we were coming back on the train. We were nearly home when death eaters attacked us. Ginny and I had to fend them off until the Aurors arrived."

"What do you mean _Ginny and I_," Ginny chided. "You went and got yourself knocked out and **I** had to ward the door. And quit exaggerating—we didn't see any of the death eaters. Dad came and Apparated us away from the battle."

"Well, I was injured pretty badly," Ron added.

"Yeah, he was, kept muttering weird stuff after he regained consciousness," Ginny said. "And Dad left me all alone with him in the middle of this random orchard. Ron had a gash on his head and it kept bleeding. I didn't know where to go for help, so I just had to wait for him to return. Mum was so mad at him about that."

"Then I was taken to St. Mungo's. I had to take some Blood Replenishing Potion. I felt sick for a few days afterwards, and Mum wouldn't leave me alone—kept doing everything for me."

"As I recall," Hermione interjected, "you didn't mind being waited on."

"You were with him?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Hermione answered, "after the train incident, Ginny, Ron and I all had to stay in Diagon Alley at the Leaky Cauldron. Apparently, we were much safer there than at the Burrow."

"Mum and Dad stayed with us too," Ron added. "And during the day, we were at Fred and George's store."

"That must have been torture," Harry said sarcastically.

"Well, we weren't allowed to go anywhere that an order member couldn't see us," Ron added.

"Still, I bet you guys had fun. I wish you could have come to Grimmauld Place," Harry said wistfully.

"Yeah, I wonder why they wouldn't let us," Ginny said. "Sure they wanted to keep your deaging secret, but we found out anyway."

_Oh yeah, the deaging_. On second thought, Harry was glad they hadn't seen him. Being eleven wasn't so bad and he could live with them seeing his glamoured five-year-old self. But crawling around as a baby, throwing his little fits…. Being scared and snuggling up to Snape—no, that would have been too much.

A knock at the door brought Harry out of his thoughts. Ginny got up to open the compartment.

"Anything off the trolley dears?" the witch asked.

"Um… er," Harry wanted something, but he remembered that he didn't have any money.

"Oh hey, that reminds me," Ron said. "Mum gave me this." He pulled out a velvet pouch from his pocket. The clinking sound revealed the presence of many coins. "She got it out of your vault for you, so that you'd have money for school. Your key is in there as well."

"Thanks," Harry said. And after pulling out some coins, he pocketed the rest.

Harry settled on some, cauldron cakes and sat down to eat them while the others ordered their own food.

"Tired of Chocolate Frogs?" Ron asked.

"Oh no, I've still got loads of those left."

"Still?"

"Well, you gave me a whole bunch," Harry replied. "And I've been a bit _off_ lately."

"Right," Ron replied.

And suddenly, they all started laughing—deep-hearted, laugh-till-you-cry, kind of laughter. Harry fell to his side, and Ron nearly fell off his seat.

A while later, sides aching, Harry sat back up. He missed this. He needed this. A good chuckle— for a little while he could pretend that he was normal—uust your average teenage boy returning to school.

"Man, I missed you guys," Harry said as he wiped some tears away from his eyes.

"Yeah, we missed you," Hermione replied.

Ron looked up to say something too, but stopped and started to laugh again, his comment completely forgotten. He was pointing over at Harry's cheek.

Confused, Harry raised a hand to feel if something was wrong. An empty candy wrapper was stuck to his face. Blushing, he pulled it away and flung it at Ron. Although he threw the garbage with all of his strength, it merely fluttered a meter before falling to the floor. This caused yet more laugher out of Ron and got the others started all over again. Harry blushed a deeper shade of red and kicked Ron in the shin.

The boy responded by pointing and muttering some incoherent phrases. Apparently, he was trying to describe the scene. This set Harry off again, especially after Ron accidentally snorted.

They were so busy laughing that they hardly noticed the blonde-haired boy who stood in the doorway, wand drawn. Two massive boys flanked him, fists clenched.

"Will you look at that?" Draco drawled. "Two weaslebies, a mudblood, and a first year. Going to pee your pants? _Accio_ Wands." Before any of them could react, four wands flew across the compartment. Draco didn't bother with trying to catche them. It didn't matter. With the wands at his feet, he knew he had the upper hand. Sneering Draco continued, "Where's Potter? I'd like to have a word."

The teens all stood up, ignoring the tears of joy on their faces.

"I'm right here, Malfoy," Harry snapped. But to his dismay, his friends crowded in front of him, protectively. Harry tried to push Ron and Hermione apart so he could see what was going on, but they were too big. He really did feel like a little eleven-year-old now.

"That's Potter?" Draco asked, and then laughed hysterically. Although it was apparent Crabbe and Goyle didn't get what was going on, they laughed as well. "What happened to you? No matter, I suppose I won't need my wand at all!"

"I'd like to see you try and get through us Malfoy," Ginny sneered.

"All right," Draco replied casually.

Draco raised his wand, but before he could so much as breathe a word, Hermione lunged at him. Draco was so caught off guard, that even her small weight managed to push him back into the hall. Unfortunately, she fell out of the compartment as well and was easily caught by Goyle. The boy pinned her arms behind her back, allowing Draco the time to regain his composure.

"You filthy little mudblood," Draco spat. Before Hermione could shout an insult back, Draco's fist collided sharply with her jaw.

At the same time, Ron retrieved his wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

Instantly, Goyle surrendered his grasp on Hermione and backed away, hands in the air.

Hermione wavered on her feet, but Ron reached over to support her shoulder. Now Harry and Ginny also had their wands. They advanced towards Draco with a murderous look on their faces. They knew they had him. The only problem now was deciding what curse to throw at him.

"Expelliarmus," a man shouted. Harry paled, as did the others—all of them. They knew that voice very well. Even Draco looked like a small boy with his hand in the cookie jar. "What is going on here?" Snape snapped.

"I… er," Draco stammered. But then a thought occurred to him and he continued calmly. "I was doing my prefect's duty. Checking on the other students to make sure everything was okay. And then they attacked me—"

"That's a lie," Ron shouted.

"They were looking for Harry," Ginny added. "And look what Draco did to Hermione."

"Detention!" Snape shouted, "for the four of you." He pointed at the Gryffindors as he fixed them with a glare.

"But that's not fair," Ron whined.

"For a week," Snape amended. Harry opened his mouth to protest as well. But Snape raised an eyebrow, daring him to complain. Consequently Harry snapped his mouth shut.

"Draco, follow me," Snape commanded and stalked down the hall. The boy looked paler than Harry imagined a human being could get. He suddenly felt a little happy; perhaps they fared better than Draco after all.

Once the Slytherins were out of sight, they gathered up their wands. Ginny then shut the compartment door and warded it to make sure no one would get in.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Ron asked as he looked over Hermione's bruised face.

"Yeah, I suppose I can see Madame Pomfrey after the welcoming feast."

"So, Harry, you trust that greasy git?" Ron shouted. "After he gave us detention? He's so unfair. Obviously, he favors his little junior death eaters!"

"Look Ron, I know that Snape was being unfair. But you weren't at Grimmauld Place with me this summer; you don't know what happened." _Thank Merlin_… but he wished Ron could understand. "I know this sounds crazy, but things have changed between us."

Ron glared at Harry, and for a moment both boys looked like they might be ready for a real row.

But Harry couldn't stay mad. Sighing, he sat down and looked pitifully over at Hermione. A large bruise was forming on her lower jaw. Ginny had transfigured a small pillow into an ice pack.

"Maybe it was an act," Harry added. The others looked back at him unconvinced. "You know, he's got to keep up his appearances around Malfoy." Harry tried to sound confident, but he ended up desperate. And he must have looked desperate, too, because the others all gave him pitying looks.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Ron said. "I don't mean to question you. I know Snape's on our side and all, but I still don't think that makes him a nice guy. He has been a right git since the moment I've met him. Just look at everything the man has done—"

"I have Ron!" Harry exclaimed. "If I could tell you everything about this summer, you'd—"

Ron cut him off and spoke very quietly. "But what if it was just an act for you? Perhaps Dumbledore persuaded him…" Harry was now studying his shoes. Ron had a point. All things considered, he might be right.

xxxxx

For the remainder of the train ride, the four remained fairly quiet. When they were getting near Hogwarts, the girls excused themselves to go and change into their school uniforms. The boys changed in the compartment. In no time at all, Harry could hear the squeal of the breaks as the train slowed to a stop.

Harry swallowed hard, nervous to face the inevitable humiliation. He should be used to it now; he was always ridiculed for something— even in primary school.

Ron reached out and squeezed his shoulder. That gave him a bit of confidence. He knew no matter what he would still have his friends.

Making his way out to the carriages proved to be a difficult task because with his small size he was constantly being pushed aside.

Then, one of the fourth-year Hufflepuffs tried to stop him. "First years are supposed to go that way," the freckle-faced girl said.

Harry gave her one of the deadliest glares he could possibly muster, but even then he couldn't dissuade the girl.

"Come on, Harry," Ron said, pushing his way past the Hufflepuff.

For the entire carriage ride, Harry held his head in his hands. He was barely aware of his surroundings when he made his way up to the castle and then into the great hall.

He heard someone, somewhere say, "Is that a first year?"

And then someone else replied, "Maybe he's lost. You go tell him he needs to be with the others. To be sorted."

Thankfully, neither student came up to talk to him. Perhaps that was because he now had Ron and Hermione flanking him, fixing their own glares at anyone who dared come talk to Harry. But more likely people were beginning to realize that the young first year must not be a first year at all. Rather, he was the none other than Harry Potter— the Boy Who Lived… deaged somehow. Since when was the golden trio apart?

Silence enveloped the great hall. Harry didn't pay attention to the sorting at all. And neither did most of the Gryffindors around him. Neville, Seamus, Dean, Collin… the list goes on. They all followed the same basic pattern. Spotted the small boy, glanced at him curiously. Eyes settled on the scar and realization would set in. Then they would mouth words, like "Harry?" or "What happened?"

After the first years were seated at their tables, Dumbledore rose to give his start of term notices. As usual the Forbidden Forest was off limits and Filtch's list of contraband was expanded (mostly to add half the stock of Weasleys' Wizard Weezes).

And then came the inevitable. The announcement… Harry was studying Remedial Potions with Professor Snape. Words of pity could be heard from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Meanwhile, a couple of sniggers escaped from the Slytherin table.

Dumbledore continued, ignoring the crowd. There was an accident… Harry deaged. And then Harry could hear the shuffling of countless students readjusting in their seats, all to get a better look. Without thinking, Harry found himself sinking into the bench. _If only he could slip under the table._

The headmaster muttered some more nonsensical words and then food appeared in front of them. At first, the great hall was fairly normal. Students' voices all mingled together as they chatted and filled their plates.

Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all. Slowly, Harry moved his hands away from his face and dared to look around. Well, people were still glancing at him. Some stared… but that wasn't too unusual. _I can live with that_.

He filled his plate with some food and started to eat.

Neville was the first who dared to speak; "I've been getting tutoring for potions too Harry. I didn't get a good enough grade on my OWLs to continue in Potions, but I need it for Herbology. So Professor Snape said he would give me a second practical test and my Gran paid for a private tutor. I take the test tomorrow evening."

"Are you nervous?" Harry asked.

"Well, yes and no," Neville replied. "Well, I've studied really hard, and I think I know the material b-but professor Snape will be there and… He… he always makes me nervous— as I'm sure you're aware of." Yeah he was aware of it; Neville's boggart turned into Snape after all.

"Rotten luck you have Harry," Seamus spoke up next. "I mean, who picked Snape for your tutor? If I had been stuck with him over the summer…" Seamus faked an involuntary shiver and returned to eating.

"Well, it wasn't too bad," Harry said. His comments were met with many dumfounded Gryffindors. Neville had dropped his spoon. Harry carefully added, "I mean, at times he could be civil… it could have been worse."

"What's worse than being deaged?" Dean asked.

Harry blushed; if Dean only knew the extent of the deaging. "I suppose," Harry replied.

"So, how long with it last?" Neville asked. "Is there an antidote?"

"There is an antidote," Harry explained, "but it will take time to get all the ingredients. There's this plant that's really rare and Snape ran out of it. And apparently he can't buy anymore either. He said he's going to grow some. So it may take awhile."

"Oh," Neville said.

"Like I said," spoke up Seamus, "you have rotten luck."

Harry nodded in agreement.

Ron changed the subject by mentioning his "daring encounter with death eaters." Ginny countered his statements, but Ron's account was more exciting. After awhile Ginny found herself completely ignored, while the others hung on Ron's every word.

"Hermione, what happened to your jaw?" Harry heard Luna ask.

"Malfoy," was all she replied.

"We'll get him back," Ron vowed, coming out of his anecdote.

"Yeah, we will," Harry confirmed.

As if on cue, four notes popped into the air before Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione.

Harry's read, "Detention. Report to my classroom at 8pm, Monday-Saturday. – Professor Snape."

"Ugh! I've got detention with Filch!" Ron exclaimed. "All week. Even Saturday."

"Me too," added Hermione quietly. Detention for the full first week of the term didn't appear to sit well with her.

For a fleeting moment, Harry felt a bit excited. He had detention with Snape after all. Perhaps the man wanted to get him on his own. To explain things.

But that moment passed when Ginny said, "Well, I have detention with Snape."

"So do I," Harry said, the disappointment evident in his voice. It was misinterpreted, however, as the other Gryffindors all spoke of injustice and a greasy Potions Master.

"A weeks worth of detention the very first week of the term!" Seamus exclaimed. "You know, you guys, you all really do have rotten luck."

Author's Note:

Well I'm glad to announce that I have a new beta, Sunsethill. She's helping a lot with grammar and whatnot—a weakness of mine. So does the story flow much better now?

As for the next chapter— I'm done with spring quarter, but alas, summer quarter starts in a week. (I'm going to be taking organic chemistry, yuck). So I'm not sure how quickly updates will come. I'll try to keep my "no longer than two weeks" rule.

Coming Soon:

Chapter 11: Classes Begin


	11. Classes Begin

Chapter 11

Classes Begin

xxxxx

Monday morning, Harry had a difficult time pulling himself out of bed. The sixth-year Gryffindor boys had stayed up way past curfew, exchanging stories about their summers. Getting dressed, they were all groggy, not to mention a bit cranky.

"Harry! Ron!" They heard Hermione shouting outside their room. She entered and said, "We're going to be late for breakfast. Now get moving."

"Yes, mother," Harry heard Ron mutter.

"Hey, we might have been naked!" Dean scolded her as he, Neville, and Seamus left the room.

"At this hour!" Hermione shouted back to the now absent boy.

Catching Hermione's scowl, Harry couldn't help but tie his shoes faster. She had the same effect on Ron, who was now pulling on his robes. Harry quickly ran his fingers through his hair—as if it could make any difference—and they all sprinted out of the room.

When they reached the great hall, most of the other students had arrived and were nearly finished with their meals.

They were in their seats for less than a minute before Professor McGonagall handed them their class schedules.

"Ugh, no free periods," Ron whined. "Not one."

"What's 'Special Topics'? Thursday afternoons… do you guys have it?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Hermione replied. "Professor McGonagall told me about it. Each week we're going to have to pick a class from a list. They'll be on specific skills, open only to sixth and seventh years."

"Who teaches them?" Ron asked.

"Well, I think a lot of different teachers, each with their own class," Hermione replied.

"I'm not taking any classes from Snape!" said Ron.

"At least we only have potions twice a week," Hermione pointed out.

"I'm not taking Potions," Ron said quickly. "Are you mad? Why take it if you don't have too? Harry, you're not taking it are you?"

"Yes! Of course I am," Harry replied. "It's required for the Auror program. I guess you're not going into that, are you?"

"Nah, I decided not to," Ron explained. "No way was I going to take Potions from that nasty git again. I'm going to focus on Care of Magical Creatures."

"What!" Hermione gasped, nearly choking on her breakfast. "You've never said anything about that before."

"Well, Charlie said he could get me a job once I'm done with school. And besides, it's an easy career to get into. You see, you don't have to get that great of marks for it."

"But, I thought you wanted to be an Auror," Harry said, with more of a whine in his voice than he intended.

"I won't have to be an Auror to fight against You-Know-Who," Ron pointed out. "And don't worry, I will always be there for you if you need me."

"Well, we better hurry up and get our books," Hermione said.

xxxxx

The first class of the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts. On their way down from Gryffindor Tower, they all joked about just who might be the new teacher—and how that person might try to kill Harry.

At first, that comment seemed funny, but as the reality of it sank in, the trio all stopped talking. Ron uttered a series of apologies and blushed a shade of red nearly the same color of his head.

Harry brushed it off, saying he was fine. But now, sitting at his desk, palms sweaty, he wasn't so sure.

The rest of the class appeared a bit more excited. Sixth-year defense was filled with students from all the houses, those who managed to pass their OWLs and chose to continue with them. Basically, the class was filled with DA members. Malfoy was in the class too, along with Nott, Bulstrode, and Parkinson. _Death eaters in training, _Harry thought.

Just before class began, the teacher entered the room. He was a tall, lean man, with brown hair parted to the side. There was nothing impressive about his appearance, nothing that stood out. He wore standard black robes and stood stiffly as he surveyed the room.

After a few moments, he walked calmly over to his desk and placed a stack of parchment on it. He then proceeded to make sure the pile was perfectly straight and orderly. Finally satisfied, he walked to the center of the room and turned to face the class. Seconds later, the bell rang.

Several students continued to whisper about the new teacher, apparently unaware of his stern glare. A couple of minutes were allowed to pass before he raised his wand and a loud crack was emitted from it.

"You will desist from speaking this instant," the Professor scowled. "Class has started and I demand your attention."

Instantly, the class was silent, each and every eye faced forward. Harry gulped. _Yes_ _he was going to die. This man was going to kill him._

"Everyone stand and walk to the back of the classroom," he ordered. Quickly, everyone did as he said. Ron and Harry exchanged some confused looks, but kept their mouths shut.

"You," the Professor said, pointing to Harry and then he motioned to a front seat in the first row, "sit here." He then continued placing each student into an assigned desk around the room. Everyone had been sorted by height, alternating between boys and girls.

Someone in the class whispered something that Harry didn't catch. But whatever it was—several of the students started snickering about it.

"You. Stand," the professor commanded. "What is your name?"

"Er… Terry… Terry Boot," the boy responded.

"Repeat what you said," the professor requested.

Terry looked unsure, "Um… repeat my name or… well, what I said earlier?"

"What you said," the professor clarified, his voice dripping with contempt.

"Er…" Terry's face became a dark crimson color. His voice was so quiet it was barely audible, "I…I said, 'a bit mental, this one.'"

"And to whom were you referring?"

Suddenly the boy looked down at the ground, apparently contemplating how to go about digging his grave. "Toyousir," he said quickly.

"Excuse me?"

_Couldn't you just give the poor guy a break?_ Harry thought. _Take points and get it over with._

"You, Sir," Terry repeated. "I was referring to you."

The Professor glared at him for a while, letting the boy squirm. Finally, he said, "Ten points from Ravenclaw for this disruption, and detention for your disrespect. Now, sit."

The professor continued to stare at the classroom, with a disgusted look on his face. Some time passed before he took a sheet of parchment off his desk and read, "Abbott, Hannah." He scanned the classroom, waiting for a response. Harry spotted Hannah. The poor Hufflepuff appeared ready to cry, and she didn't know what to do.

After an awkward silence, she quietly responded, "Um… I'm here."  
"Sloppy," the Professor scolded. "You will address me with respect. _Here, Sir_."

He glared at the poor girl till she realized he expected her to repeat him. "Here, Sir," she said, her voice still quavering.

"Blustrode, Millicent," the professor continued.

"Here, Sir," she replied confidently.

The professor finished the list of students. Harry had expected him to pause at his name, to gawk at his forehead perhaps, or maybe to glare more strongly. But the man had proceeded like Harry was nothing more than another student.

"I am Professor Bastian Quinn," he spoke sternly. "This is NEWT level Defense Against the Dark Arts. You have all managed to receive a sufficient grade on your OWLs, despite this institution's lack of proper training. Regardless, you will be required to pass my test. Otherwise, you can be dropped down to Remedial Defense."

"Ugh, a test on the first day," Ron muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Mr. Weasley, stand," Professor Quinn demanded. Blushing, Ron rose to his feet. "Did you have permission to speak?"

Ron stared back, a bit dumbfounded. When it became obvious the question was not rhetorical, Ron answered, "Er, no sir."

"Ten points from Gryffindor," the Professor commanded. "Another outburst, Mr. Weasley, and you will find yourself in detention. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir," Ron replied through a clenched jaw. Obviously, he was having difficulty holding in yet more complaints. But by Professor Quinn's demeanor, everyone knew he would not tolerate further talking.

"You may sit," he said to Ron. And then he commanded, "Mr. Macmillian, come." Ernie was in the desk closest to the professor, and got up quickly to obey. "Pass these out," Professor Quinn said as he handed the boy a large stack of parchment. Addressing the rest of the class, he continued, "You will have a written examination. I will also be calling each of you individually for a practical." He glanced around the class briefly, to wait for questions. Then he called, "Miss Abbott."

Suddenly, Harry found himself feeling sorry for Hannah. She always came first for everything. Potter seemed like such a good name at the moment—not first, nor last.

With a quiet whap, his test was set before him, and he wasted no time at all starting it. The test was long, detailed, and would most likely take more time than the class period allowed. Most of the questions covered similar topics to the OWLs, but there were questions on topics he didn't recognize. He looked up and scanned the other students; they looked just as confused as he was.

Due to the lack of time, he didn't pay much attention to those being tested. When Hermione was called up, he paused momentarily to give her an encouraging nod. He did the same for Neville. After a few others, it was his turn.

Professor Quinn started off simply, with things any first year would know. And then, Harry was dismissed. Perplexed, he didn't move to return to his chair.

"Sir, I know a lot more than that," Harry said. "Surely you'd like to—"

"I said you were dismissed," Professor Quinn scolded. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Now return to your seat."

"But sir—" Harry continued.

"Detention, for insolence. Now return to your seat."

Harry opened his mouth again to speak. The man was being so unreasonable. He had barely paid attention during the other practicals, but he knew none had been as short as his.

He watched Dean Thomas' practical. The boy was asked to show advanced blocks, even ones only covered in DA. Ron's was the same way. This aggravated Harry to no end, and he was hardly able to concentrate on the rest of the written examination.

"Professor Quinn is the worst git I have ever seen," Ron complained on their way to Transfiguration. "He's worse than Snape!"

"Well, Ronald, you shouldn't have been talking in class," Hermione scolded. "It's not like a new rule or anything! Honestly!"

"Oh, don't you go defending him!" Ron yelled. "Detention on the first day of class! That's totally unfair to Harry. And he didn't even do anything. He's a lot like Umbridge."

Harry shuddered at that thought. He already had detention with the man. But Professor Quinn had his own quarks. "It was so weird," Harry pointed out. "He only tested me on easy stuff. Why would he do that?"

Hermione and Ron shrugged.

xxxxx

By dinner, any excitement about the new school year had completely faded away. Professor McGonagall announced in class that sixth-year transfiguration marked the beginning of the real difficult work_. But when hadn't transfiguration been difficult? _Herbology wasn't any better. After potting a particularly troublesome group of Bacctus Plants, Harry's arms were incredibly sore.

Hermione had Arithmancy instead of Herbology. Apparently, her class had already been assigned an incredibly large project. But instead of complaining along with Harry and Ron, she practically skipped around the school—clearly she was excited about all the extra work. Harry had the unbearable urge to lash out and knock her over. And judging by the look on Ron's face, the boy was having similar thoughts.

On cue, _just to make my day so much better_, Harry thought, a note appeared in front of him. It read, "Detention, 7 a.m., Saturday. My office. Professor Bastian Quinn." Groaning, Harry crumpled the note up and tossed it into his bag.

"Is that from our new Defense Git?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Harry moaned. "I have detention at seven in the morning, on Saturday!"

"Ugh, that's horrible," Ron grimaced. "That's so early in the morning. What is he thinking?"

"I don't know, but I've got a bad feeling about him," Harry answered.

"I know," Ron replied. "Me, too. I mean, he's the defense teacher. That's reason enough to suspect him—considering the past."

"I suppose I can drop by to ask him a question," Hermione suggested. "Just to check on you."

"Yeah, I'll come with her," Ron added.

"We better go and get started on our homework," Hermione said. "Who knows how long detention will take."

xxxxx

It seemed as though in no time at all, 8 p.m. rolled around and Harry was standing nervously outside of the Potions classroom, Ginny at his side. She opened the door tentatively, and they both walked in.

From the look of the desks, their task was obvious. Dirty cauldrons were stacked haphazardly on the desks. There seemed to be a lot more than Snape had brought along with him to Grimmauld Place.

Harry smiled to himself; somehow this seemed fitting. Perhaps he didn't deserve detention for the incident on the train, but surely he did for nearly killing the man. _To bad my friends have to suffer too, _he thought.

"You will wash these wandless," Snape commanded. "Everything you need is there." He pointed towards the floor where two buckets of soapy water waited, along with some scrub brushes and two pairs of gloves. Then he sat down at his desk to start grading students' essays.

Ginny rolled up her sleeves and reached out to the nearest cauldron.

"Wait," Harry said, pulling her back from the pile. "We need to put on a pair of gloves. We don't know what sort of potions are on these. They may be harmful."

"Oh, right!" Ginny grabbed a pair of gloves for herself and handed a set to Harry.

At first, the work was grueling and monotonous, but eventually Ginny and Harry found themselves making it a game. Whoever finished cleaning their cauldron first was allowed to pick out the next ones to clean. They would look for the most disgusting one possible for each other.

So far, Ginny had found the worst. Harry had to scrub it, and he was sure he recognized the remains of some salamander eyes. He pretended to double over and vomit on the floor, making Ginny laugh.

Snape didn't pay any attention to them, which Harry found odd. Although they didn't speak, surely their laughing disturbed the Potions Master.

"That will be all for today," Snape announced. "You are excused." Both Gryffindors jumped at his voice. They had almost forgotten the man was even there.

"Wow, it's ten o'clock," Ginny said as they started to climb the stairs.

"Yeah, I barely noticed the time going by," said Harry.

"Detention wasn't half bad," Ginny pointed out.

Both Harry and Ginny blushed when they realized why detention was almost fun. They remained silent for the rest of the trek up to the tower.

xxxxx

The next day's classes weren't any better; again, Harry had Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Quinn had already graded all of their tests and had written out long comments that described areas the students needed to improve. After reading his test, Harry was surprised to admit to himself that for once—besides Remus—he had a defense teacher who might actually be able to teach them something. _Perhaps this new Professor wasn't so bad after all._

However, Harry's mood changed abruptly after Professor Quinn announced the assignment. Each student was to write a thorough essay covering each topic they had been marked down on. They had till Friday to complete the task. Several students complained, earning themselves a detention. The Professor curtly reminded them all that they were expected to know the material, and could switch to Remedial DADA if they wanted.

"That Professor is such a git!" Ron exclaimed. "He's almost worse than Snape! And he's weird and twitchy…"

"Oh, Ronald," Hermione scolded.

"No, really," Ron defended himself. "Did you see the way he arranged the material on his desk? Took ten bloody minutes!"

"You're exaggerating," Hermione corrected. "He's just organized. And he's right. We need to know all the material before continuing on to NEWT defense."

"Yeah," Harry said, "but he should at least teach us the other material. I mean it's not our fault we had crummy professors in the past."

"Well, you heard him," Hermione defended. "He's offering a Remedial Defense class after all."

"Oh, that's a load of rubbish!" Ron shouted.

"No, it's not," Neville piped in. "A lot of students wanted to continue on with Defense, but didn't get high enough OWLS."

"Really?" Harry asked, "When do they meet?"

"You don't honestly want to join that do you?" Ron asked, after dropping his spoon.

"No, I'm just curious," Harry replied.

Neville continued, "You know Megan Jones?" The others shook their heads. "She's a Hufflepuff. I sit next to her in Herbology. Anyway, she's in the Remedial Defense class. She said they meet Monday afternoons."

"Megan Jones, huh?" Ron said in a slightly teasing manner. Neville's cheeks pinked, but he didn't say anything.

"We better hurry up, guys," Hermione interrupted. "Lunch is almost over. We don't want to be late for our first Potions class of the year."

As Harry, Hermione, and Neville got up quickly to leave, Ron taunted, "Oh, I don't envy you guys at all. Have fun in Potions!"

They left the great hall and started to walk down to the dungeons.

"Oh, no!" Harry said, stopping in mid stride. "I forgot my book!"

"Harry, you can't get it now. You'll be late," Hermione pointed out.

"But you can't go to class without it," Neville added.

"You guys go on ahead," Harry said. "I'll just run!"

He took off sprinting up the stairs without waiting for a response, making it back to the Gryffindor common room in no time at all. He went over to his trunk, retrieved his book, and ran out of the room. He made it down to the dungeons in record time. Checking his watch, he sighed in relief, knowing that he wouldn't be late. He decided to walk the last few corridors in order to catch his breath.

"Oh, look, if it isn't a pint-sized Potty," Malfoy's voice drawled.

Harry turned to meet his enemy, flanked on either side by his usual goons, Crabbe and Goyle.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry sneered.

"I'm just trying to help out a lost little boy," Malfoy mocked.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Harry spat as he turned away and continued to walk to class.

With his back to the others, Harry heard a small scuffle, and then a clumsy set of legs bound forward. He had his hand tightly wrapped around his wand. _Let them come_, he said to himself. _Let's see if the little Slytherins have the guts to attack me just outside of Snape's class._

A hand caught his right forearm and spun him around. _Okay, so they have the guts… but no matter_.

Harry had his wand out, fixed on Malfoy's nose. The boy flinched, but in no time Harry found his own hands pinned around his back. Goyle was way too strong for an eleven-year-old Harry. His wand was pried from his fingers and handed over to Malfoy.

"Give that back!" Harry shouted. He pulled away from Goyle, but that only caused a shooting pain in his shoulders.

"Oh, let the poor boy go," Malfoy said. "Can't you see you're hurting him?"

Laughing, Goyle released Harry's arms and then pushed him to the ground.

Harry barely had any time to react and smacked down onto the hard stone floor. He wasted little time contemplating the pain on his brow, and the ache of his ribcage, but stood back up and glared at Malfoy. "Give that back," he commanded.

"Why don't you just take it away from me?" Malfoy said, holding Harry's wand up in the air.

Having an eleven-year-old body, Harry knew no amount of jumping would allow him to reach up and take the wand. He tried to work out a plan in his head, but couldn't come up with anything.

Just then, the bell rang. For a moment, a look panic crossed Malfoy face, only to be replaced with a sneer.

"Looks like I've run out of time," Malfoy carried on casually, although he had started walking quickly to the classroom. "I'll just leave your wand here." He placed Harry's wand on a small ledge of rock, well out of the boy's reach, and then sprinted down to the classroom.

Surprisingly, his goons didn't follow, but instead continued on to their common room. After more thought, Harry realized it was unlikely they'd be in NEWT level potions anyway.

Glad that the bigger boys didn't stay to torment him, Harry looked up the wall at his wand. It was way too high. He kicked the wall in frustration and then yelled out a series of profanities.

Deciding to just wait and play guard, Harry sat down below his wand. Despite the fact he had class, he just couldn't leave his wand behind. Hopefully, Hermione or Neville would come out first and get it for him. As he contemplated just how horrible it was to be deaged, a memory occurred to him. _The floo powder_, he thought. _I accioed the floo powder… wandless. Maybe I can do this—_

He jumped up to his feet, held out his hand and commanded, "_Accio_ wand!" Nothing happened. He tried again, still nothing. He was glad the corridor was empty, because he probably looked like an idiot.

He knew he could do it. _I did it before… _In his head, he retraced the steps he went through before as a baby. _I held up my hand and… well I couldn't talk then, so I just thought it._ In another attempt, Harry held up his arm. Thinking hard, he commanded, _"Accio wand!"_

To his surprise, the wand flew off the ledge and was caught easily. He did a sort of dance in celebration and instantly had the desire to tell someone. He ran down to the Potions classroom, with a silly grin plastered on his face and strode into the room.

Snape was in the middle of one of his lectures, which Harry boldly interrupted. "Snape, I—"

The glare from the man shut him up, and completely brought Harry back to his senses. He blushed a deep shade of red, and quickly glanced around for a hole to crawl into.

"You're ten minutes late!" Snape scowled. "Twenty points from Gryffindor. Now find a seat!"

Harry scrambled quickly to sit besides Hermione. In the process, he managed to trip over his own feet and fell into Neville's desk. Thankfully, he only knocked the boy's book off the desk—in a Potions class there could be worse things to knock over. Finally, he was in his seat, with almost the whole class laughing at him.

"Are you done disrupting my classroom, Potter?" Snape snapped.

Harry nodded in response, and tried to sink deeper into his chair.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," Snape continued, "each student must select their own potion. You have one week in which to submit your proposal. Earlier submissions will be approved. If there are duplicate submissions, then the later student will be required to research a new potion. Are there any questions?"

Harry had a million questions. He had no idea what Snape was talking about. But he kept them to himself, to ask Hermione later. No one else asked any questions, so Snape moved on.

"Open your books to page eighteen," he commanded. The classroom filled with the noise of books opening and pages being turned. When the room quieted, Snape continued, "What are the three important properties of the Fluxweed when used with frog parts?"

Harry thought hard. He remembered reading something about this over the summer, but it seemed like ages and ages ago. _Like years, when I was a baby…_ Harry was too busy hoping Snape wouldn't call on him to hear his name.

"Potter," Snape spat—the man was only a few paces away now. "POTTER!"

Harry was snapped back to reality. "Uh… er…" the boy stuttered. He almost remembered the answer; it was on the edge of his memory… just out of reach. _Fluxweed has something to do with changing forms, but the frog parts…_

"Clearly my tutoring meant nothing Potter," Snape taunted. Several Slytherins started giggling.

A part of Harry felt mad; he wanted nothing more then to shout back in defense. But mostly, he felt betrayed. He looked up at the Potions Master, eyes pleading—_if only things could go back to the way they were._

"A complete waste of my time," Snape mercilessly continued.

Such a simple comment, but the words hit Harry hard. He didn't know what to say. He looked away from Snape; he couldn't maintain the eye contact. "Snape… I—"

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape interrupted, "for disrespect. Now does anyone know the answer to my question? Save me from the agony of stupidity."

Hermione's hand shot up like a light.

Harry couldn't pay attention enough to even hear her reply. He felt bad for being such an idiot—of course he should have addressed Snape as _Professor. _They were in class after all. And he should have known the answer; he spent hours reading the books, yet it seemed like so long ago. But the worst thing of all was Snape's comment, "_a complete waste of my time._" That really hit home. He had always been a nuisance, at least as far as the Dursleys were concerned.

He thought Snape was different. _Of course not! Of all the stupid things to think!_ Harry mentally scolded himself. _Well, I won't waste his time anymore!_

After a while, the lecture stopped and the brewing began. Glancing at the instructions, Harry started to work. He spent most of his time trying not to think, only sparing as little brain activity as necessary to make a passable potion. He totally ignored all the insults Snape threw his way—and there were many.

An eternity passed before it was time for Harry to clean up his workspace and pack to go. He was almost free until a voice held him back. "Stay behind Potter."

Swallowing hard, Harry sat back down in his chair. He waited nervously as the room emptied. A part of him prayed, _please Snape, please. Tell me it's just an act… to fool the death eaters… _

"You think you can waltz into my class ten minutes late?" Snape spat after they were alone.

"Listen, Snape, I can explain—" Harry replied, but he was cut off.

"Ten more points from Gryffindor!" Snape snapped. "You will learn to address me with respect. Now you will sit there for ten minutes to make up for you truancy. If I hear a word out of you, I will add another week to your detention."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, to protest… but Snape's scowl kept him quiet. The man went back to his desk and started to examine the vials of potion.

_What did I do?_ Harry thought desperately. _Why does he hate me again? I thought things had changed…_

The ten minutes passed slowly, and finally Snape said, "You're dismissed, Potter."

Harry got up to leave, but stopped just before the door. "Professor?" The man remained silent, Harry continued anyway. "What did I do?" _Please tell me, please—I'll make up for it…I'll change._ "I thought things had changed."

The man didn't reply other than to snort. After a long awkward silence, Harry darted out of the room.

xxxxx

Harry ran blindly down the corridor, hoping to get as far away as possible in case he broke down and cried. He didn't notice Ron until he ran right into him. Being small, it was Harry who fell backwards.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Ron asked as he extended an arm to help the boy up.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry replied, brushing himself off.

"No, I meant about…" Ron hesitated. "With Snape," he finally blurted out. "Hermione told me Snape was a real git and I know…"

"I said I was fine!" Harry shouted, with more anger than he intended. Ron's face looked hurt, so Harry said, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, mate," Ron shrugged it off. "I know you're upset."

"He's acting like nothing happened," Harry whispered, hoping not to reveal exactly how hurt he really was. "He's acting like he hates me, just like he did before. And I don't know why… if he'd just tell me what I did. Maybe I could make things better…"

"Harry," Ron said seriously. He placed his hands on Harry's shoulders and stooped down to look the boy in the eye. "You haven't done anything wrong. I'm sure of it. I don't know what's up with Snape. I'm sorry he's such an evil bat."

Thankfully, Ron had the decency not to say, "I told you so." And Harry was actually feeling a bit better… a tiny bit. They walked quietly up to the library to find Hermione.

"So, how was Care of Magical Creatures?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

"Er…" Ron blushed. "It wasn't bad. I, um…" The redhead's body language changed dramatically to show he wanted to hide something embarrassing.

Suddenly very curious, Harry stopped walking. "Tell me what happened!" he demanded, with a smile on his face.

"Iwastheonlyoneintheclass," Ron said in one breath.

"What?"

"I was the only one it the class," Ron admitted. "The only sixth year student stupid enough to continue with Care of Magical Creatures, okay?"

Harry smiled and tried not to laugh, but found himself giggling despite it. "That is, um… interesting."

Ron growled and continued to walk to the library. Harry sprinted to catch up. "At least it brightened your mood," Ron commented.

Once in the library, Hermione briefed Harry on the Potions assignment. "We're supposed to pick a Potion that takes a long time to brew, one that undergoes several stages. We have to write a proposal to brew the potion, detailing where we'll get our ingredients, what the potion can be used for, and how to brew it."

"Oh, let me guess," Harry interrupted. "Then we're going to have to brew the potion, right?"

"Yeah, but only if our proposal is approved," Hermione corrected. "Otherwise, we have to pick a different potion. Oh, and we're going to have to work on it out of class, too."

"Great," Harry sighed. "More time in the dungeons!" Harry noticed that Ron looked quite pleased with himself—he wouldn't have to suffer through potions. He quickly wiped the smirk off the redhead's face by saying, "At least I'm not alone in the class."

The group grew quite as they all started working on their homework. NEWT level classes seemed to pile on the homework, and they were only two days into the term! Harry didn't know if he could make it. As 8 p.m. drew closer, Harry couldn't help but let his thoughts wander back to the dungeons.

Despite what Ron had said, Harry knew something had happened to make Snape angry with him. He decided he would work much harder in the class. He would read the assignments ahead of time and give the man proper respect. He hoped his efforts would be enough.

But a nagging feeling kept his hope at bay. How could he be so deluded as to think that another adult might care for him. It would never happen… _not after I killed Sirius_… Harry mentally cursed himself for being stupid, lame… weak. He wanted so badly to have someone love him, like a father or a mother.

He watched his friends studying—laughing… Did they realize how much they had? Feelings of jealously and longing crept into him, forming a lump in his throat. Again, he thought he would cry…

He suppressed those feelings deep inside him. It was time to find Ginny and head to detention.

Author's Note:

What to say?

Coming Soon:

Chapter 12: Classes Continue (not creative… sorry)


	12. Classes Continue

Chapter 12

Classes Continue

xxxxx

Harry woke up early Saturday morning. The other boys in the dormitory were still sleeping. Quietly, Harry dressed and slipped out of the room. He contemplated stopping by the Great Hall to pick up some breakfast, but changed his mind. Ten minutes early for detention, he waited outside the Defense classroom. He did not fancy going in there at all, much less before he had to.

Professor Quinn's attitude had not improved since the first class. Harry had three more classes with the man over the last week. Each class was first thing in the morning, when his brain was still numb. So far, Professor Quinn had just lectured the class. His strict control over the class was almost tangible. No one spoke unless asked a direct question—woe to those who didn't give a satisfactory response.

Thankfully, Harry never had to worry about giving an answer, because the Professor never asked him a question. Regardless, Harry found himself studying each night with Ron and Hermione—just in case.

Harry was reluctant to admit it, but they were all learning a lot in this man's class. Despite the oppressive control of the classroom, Quinn was still a good teacher.

With a sigh, Harry turned the knob and pushed the door open into the classroom. Professor Quinn was already there, grading essays. By the looks of it, the man had been there for a while.

Harry paused in the doorway; he didn't know where to go.

"Mr. Potter," Quinn said, without looking up from his work. "Come." Slowly, Harry obeyed. When he reached the deck, the man looked up and asked, "Why do you have detention today?"

Harry stared back a bit confused. _You gave it to me_. _Are you a complete idiot?_ he thought. Instead he said, "You sent a note. It said Saturday morning at seven."

"What was the reason for your detention?" Quinn asked.

Unable to help it, Harry rolled his eyes. _Is this man completely daft?_

Suddenly, Quinn slapped his hand down on his desk. "Don't you dare roll your eyes at me," he spat as he rose to his feet. "Now, answer my question."

Subconsciously, Harry took a step back. And then it dawned on him; _the bastard knows exactly why I have detention. He just wants me to say it—to admit it._ Gritting his teeth, Harry replied, "I did not return to my seat when you asked me to." _Yeah that's right—that's all I did!_

"When I give you a command, I expect it to be obeyed," the man lectured. He glared down at the boy and Harry found himself feeling very small. "I will not tolerate insolence. Is that understood?"

Harry nodded, but quickly remembered that he would be expected to reply. Doing so he said, "Yes sir."

Satisfied, Quinn sat back down at his desk. And then ordered, "Go stand in the corner."

"What!" Harry choked.

"You heard me," Quinn replied. He stared at Harry intently—menacingly, almost—daring the boy to object.

_Oh god_, Harry thought. _At least I'm not carving lines into my arm_. Barely swallowing his pride, he felt his legs moving towards the corner. _Just get it over with. As embarrassing as this is, it can't last forever…_ In no time at all, Harry's view was encompassed by the stone walls of the defense classroom's corner. Studying the rocky crevices, his thoughts drifted back to other recent embarrassing moments.

Inevitably, that brought his mind back to Snape. _Evil bat_. After the horrible class on Tuesday, Harry spent a lot of time studying for potions. When Friday's class came along, Harry was more than prepared—at least he had thought so. He was able to answer the first few questions sent his way, but eventually Snape found something Harry didn't know. Although the insults were fewer and the glares more intermittent, Harry still left feeling rejected.

However, detentions with Snape weren't half-bad. In fact, they bordered on fun. Harry and Ginny were now talking and joking during their cleaning sessions. Several times, they found themselves laughing and Snape never once told them to be quiet—he never said anything.

After detention, Ginny and Harry talked about Snape's odd behavior. The man did look to be overworked and tired. They decided that perhaps he was too exhausted to say anything. But Harry knew better. Nothing would stop Snape from silencing a crowd with an ominous glare. Well, nothing he could think of. Something was up with Snape; something was wrong.

This knowledge alone gave Harry a glimmer of hope. Snape wasn't completely back to his old self. Yes, he was mean and cruel to Harry once more, but something felt off. So, Harry was compelled to make things right. He was polite and composed in class, giving Snape complete respect. Potions homework came first (DADA a close second).

So far, his efforts seemed to have no affect, other than to make him very tired. His NEWT level classes dished out a lot of extra work and studying.

Ron and Hermione were also struggling, but to a lesser degree. They were able to stay up much later than Harry was. In his eleven-year-old body, Harry found himself nodding off in the early evening, but then woke at an ungodly hour in the morning. And the nights were less than pleasant, plagued by awful dreams. For a fleeting moment, before he was completely awake, he would consider going to find Snape. Once conscious, though, he would berate himself for being so stupid.

The shuffling of essays brought Harry out of his thoughts. He wondered if Quinn was watching him or not. _If only I could punch the git_. He held down his pride and remained silent. He felt proud of himself; it wasn't very often that he was able to contain himself—to willfully submit to humiliation.

He wondered what Ron would do in this situation. He could see his friend now, fists balled, face red with anger, standing over Professor Quinn's unconscious body—_he'd be expelled for sure_. Silently, Harry contemplated different pranks he and his friend could play on the unsuspecting Defense teacher. But the man didn't seem to be the naïve type; undoubtedly, they would be caught. One thing Harry did not need was more detentions. He hardly had enough time as it was.

During breakfast on Thursday, Harry and Ron received a note from McGonagall about this year's quidditch team. The ridiculous lifelong ban on Harry had been removed and Ron had been selected as the team's Captain. For Ron's sake, Harry feigned jealousy, but really he couldn't be happier for his friend. Tryouts were promptly scheduled for next Saturday, and practices soon after that.

Harry imagined the freedom of flying on his broom, the wind rustling his hair as he sped across the sky. He could fly amongst the clouds, well above the world below. For a while he could be free of his thoughts and worries, leaving everything behind. _If only I could fly now._

Bored out of his mind, Harry started to count the ridges in the rocks around him. He had no idea how much time had passed._ I wish I had put on my watch. What are my friends doing right now?_

On cue, a tentative knock broke the silence.

"Enter," Quinn commanded.

Harry's face turned a beat red. He glanced over his shoulder and was glad to see that it was just Hermione. Although it was still embarrassing, better a friend to see him than some random student. _Or Malfoy_, Harry shuddered.

Hermione gave Harry a sympathetic wink before she walked over to Professor Quinn's desk.

"I have a question about my essay, sir," Hermione stated. "Why did I get a Poor?"

Hermione was calm now, but he remembered the girl yesterday evening. She paced back and forth, rereading her essay over and over again. Then, she ranted on endlessly about the unfair grading, and stated her intentions to "request a second evaluation."

"My marks are quite clear," Quinn replied dryly. "What is it that you don't understand?"

"I covered everything that you requested," Hermione defended herself. "I even described a bit extra on the—"

_She was cut off, what happened?_ Harry turned a bit to see the defense teacher had raised his hand to silence the girl. But the most disturbing thing was the look on Quinn's face. It was utter disgust, like Hermione was the lowest form of life that he had ever been forced to set eyes on.

"I assigned twelve inches," Quinn spat. " If you cannot follow simple instructions, I will not even bother to read your essays. Now go."

Hermione stood there a moment; her mouth hanging open, completely at a loss for words. Under normal circumstances, Harry would find the sight a bit amusing. Right now he was busy fighting the urge to run over and clock the man on the back of the head.

Without another word, Hermione left. Quickly, Harry turned back to face the corner, lest his sentence be extended. He hoped his detention would be over soon—he was getting hungry and needed to pee.

Once this detention was done, he'd be free for the weekend. Well, except for his last detention with Snape… but he knew that wouldn't be too bad. He'd have time to spend with Ginny. His best friend's little sister was actually quite funny.

Another knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. _Ron's turn to check on me._

"Enter," Quinn commanded.

A quick glance confirmed the fact it was Ron who entered. Upon seeing Harry in the corner, Ron tensed up with anger. _Hold it together Ron, no need for you to get in trouble too._

"I have a question," Ron said with a forced calm, unrecognized by anyone who didn't know him. "I don't understand the net wards."

"Is there something specific about them that you do not understand?" Quinn asked.

"Well er.." Ron paused. Harry knew that the boy was completely making up his confusion. Hermione, Ron and Harry had already discussed the topic and had moved on to practical practice. Finally settling on a point, Ron said, "I don't understand what to connect them to."

"Ah, I see. Since these wards are placed outside, you have to be a little more creative when selecting markers for a boundary. You can attach the ward to almost anything, a blade of grass, a tree, or even a grain of sand. On Tuesday, we will begin practicing the wards. Review pages thirty-five through thirty-eight."

"Thank you, sir," Ron said in fake politeness. "I should go now, before lunch is over." And then he left.

_Subtle Ron_, Harry thought sarcastically, _very subtle_. Some more time passed. His legs were really starting to get tired. _How long am I going to have to stand here?_ He shifted from one leg to the other. _I wonder what Quinn would do if I just sat down?_

"Come," Quinn finally commanded. Quickly, Harry obeyed; he would go anywhere to be away from the corner. "Now what have you learned?"

_Wel,l there's a large crack in one of the stones_, Harry thought sarcastically. Playing to the man's whims, instead he replied, "I have learned to obey your commands, sir." _Oh God, where did that come from? What's wrong with me? I'm just so tired… please let me go…_

Quinn looked smug. _I'd love to wipe that look right off your face._ Externally, Harry remained calm. It worked.

"You're excused," Quinn said finally.

Quelling the desire to sprint out of the room, Harry walked casually.

xxxxx

He made it to the Great Hall just as lunch began. _So Ron had been exaggerating. He had plenty of time to make it to lunch._ Either way, Harry had spent a long time in detention, staring at a stone wall.

"Finally, Harry," Ron said as the boy sat down at the table. "You were in detention for a while. Did you do the same thing the whole time?"

"Yeah," Harry replied quietly. He was glad that Ron didn't blurt out exactly how he spent detention. He really didn't want the whole school to know.

"That git!" Ron shouted. He looked ready to shout more, but Harry gave him a look that said, "Shut it."

"What did you have to do," asked Seamus.

"Oh, you know," Harry brushed off. "I just hate being around Quinn."

"I know what you mean," Neville said in a quiet whisper.

"Something is wrong with that man," Hermione declared. Her face was a bit flushed. She was definitely still angry about what happened earlier. After Ron rolled his eyes, Harry realized the girl must have been ranting on about Quinn for some time now.

No one spoke for a while until Ron brought up Quidditch. He talked on and on about his strategy for the tryouts. He would observe from the stands, while Harry would fly high to watch them from above. Then he rattled on about the different tests each person would have to undergo—speed, agility, and so on. During the conversation, Harry lost interest, so he just nodded occasionally to pretend he was still listening.

Tonight was Harry last detention with Snape. And then he had no detentions left, from anyone. For the rest of the weekend, he decided to focus on schoolwork and studying until he was completely caught up. He still had to find a long-term brewing potion and write up his proposal for Snape. It was hard to find the right potion; he wanted it to be good, _impressive_.

Harry was about to slip into this state when he was brought back to reality by the overwhelming quiet of the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall had stood up to make an announcement.

"It has been a long time since Hogwarts had enjoyed the festivities of a ball," she began. Harry groaned; he didn't like where this was leading. "This year we have decided to hold a dance the evening after each of the Quidditch games." The hall was suddenly filled with a mixture of groans and giggles. McGonagall raised her hand and the hall silenced. "These dances will not be formal and all years are invited." McGonagall sat back down as the room filled with many conversations.

"What's up with that?" Ron asked. He looked as annoyed as Harry felt.

Harry rolled his eyes. "McGonagall and her balls."

"Maybe they're having the dances in light of recent events," Hermione suggested. She held up her copy of the Daily Prophet. The cover story was entitled, "Four Killed in Death Eater Attack."

Stories like that were commonplace now. The world was all too aware that You-Know-Who had returned in full force. Harry wished they could be naïve again. He'd rather be the insane Boy-Who-Lived than to see the news these days. _And I am supposed to stop it all._

"You're probably right," Harry said, trying to distract himself from his thoughts. "McGonagall probably things they'll cheer us up." _Oh yes, I think I feel much better now._

"At least we have a while to find dates," Ron pointed out. Hermione glared at the boy, who now cowered a bit closer to Harry.

"Time to go study," Harry announced. He rushed out of the Great Hall, followed closely by Hermione and a begrudging Ron.

xxxxx

In no time at all, Harry found himself back outside of the potions classroom, Ginny by his side. Today he had managed to get a lot of his schoolwork done. But he still hadn't picked a potion to work on. Nothing seemed good enough. Hermione had picked Blood Replenishing Potion and was nearly done with her proposal. Harry tried not to think about all the things that he still needed to do. The detentions with Snape might not have been that bad, but they were a waste of precious time.

"So, this is our last detention," Ginny said.

"Finally," Harry replied. "Funny, you and I got a week's worth of detentions for just standing there. Too bad we didn't do something more."

"Yeah," Ginny laughed.

They entered the dimly lit potions classroom and were surprised to find a cauldron set up with ingredients around it.

"The instructions are on the board," was all the Potions Master said before he returned to grading essays. Snape appeared to be really over-tired, more so than Harry recalled ever seeing before.

Turning his attention to the board, Harry realized they were going to brew a potion to cure boils. It was a simple first year potion. Ginny and Harry shared confused looks before they started working.

"So, what do you think about McGonagall's announcement?" Harry asked out of the blue. He blushed after he realized what he said, and then glanced quickly to make sure that Ginny wasn't watching him.

"It seems a bit inappropriate, don't you think?" she asked, not looking up from the snake fangs that she was now crushing vigorously. "I mean there's a war going on and people are dying." Harry was surprised by the amount of anguish in Ginny's voice. What happened to the giddy little girl? Ginny continued, unaware that Harry had stopped working and was now staring at her, "I think McGonagall is trying to cheer us up or something, but…"

"It's a stupid idea," Harry finished for her. He thought he heard Snape snort, but he couldn't be sure.

Ginny stopped short of annihilating the snake fangs, looked up at Harry and said, "I don't want to go."

"Neither do I," Harry replied.

"I bet McGonagall will make us," Ginny said as she added the fine powder to the now boiling potion.

"Yeah, since we're in her house," Harry confirmed as he started to stir.

"And we're on the quidditch team," Ginny added.

"You know what, we won't go," Harry stated. "But if she makes us, we can just go together. Do whatever it is she expects and then leave."

Ginny nodded and then removed the potion from the heat. The rest of detention was spent in silence.

xxxxx

Monday night found Harry alone in the Gryffindor common room. He would much rather be in the library, but it was well past curfew. Most of Sunday had been spent sifting through numerous potion books looking for "the one." By Sunday evening, Hermione finally managed to convince Harry to do the Polyjuice Potion. "Some potion is better than none at all," she had said.

So there he was, fighting to stay awake as he finished the last of all the requirements. He scoffed at himself as he wrote. They had discussed the potion in second year and although the other students hadn't made it, he, Hermione and Ron had. At least he remembered all the steps and ingredients. And he could test the potion on himself, using a bit of Ron for the potion. The only problem was the bloomslang skin. He couldn't write "steal it from Snape's private stores." Instead he scribbled down, "order from Hogsmeade Apothecary." He didn't really know if the store had the ingredient, but hopefully it did.

Sighing as he wrote the last line, he set down his quill, and nearly fell asleep on the spot. Shaking his head, he stood up and rolled up his essay. He knew it was probably laced with errors, but Hermione had gone to bed a while ago.

After putting away his school things, Harry climbed into bed. He kicked off his shoes and didn't bother switching into pajamas. His head hit the pillow and sleep consumed him immediately.

It seemed as though only a moment passed before Ron was shaking him awake. "Come on, Harry!" Ron yelled. "Wake up! You're going to be late for defense."

Harry's eyes shot open instantly. He stood up, did a charm to straighten his robes and slipped on his shoes. Before he ran out of the tower, he stopped to brush his teeth and wash his face. Ron waited for him and they ran out to the grounds.

Defense class was going to be held just inside the edge of the forest. Today was the first day that they were going to do practical magic. For the first time, Harry was actually looking forward to defense class.

They reached the grounds in record time—albeit gasping for air—just before class began. Finding Hermione and the other Gryffindors, they walked over and joined them.

"Attention, class," Quinn called. Everyone quieted and gathered closely in order to hear well. "Listen carefully for your partners. Mr. Weasley with Mr. Malfoy." Harry could see from the corner of his eye that Ron's face had turned red, his whole body tensed. _This is going to be bad…_ And it didn't get better, "Mr. Nott with Mr. Longbottom." Poor Neville paled. "Miss Bulstrode with Miss Parkinson." They seemed pretty happy about that and so did Dean and Seamus when he called them next. Terry was with Anthony and Ernie was with Michael. It was fairly obvious the pairs were being matched up with the same sex until Quinn grouped Hermione with Justin. The final group was comprised of the three remaining girls, Hannah, Susan and Lavender. Which was odd, because there was an even number of students. Harry hadn't been paired up with anyone.

"I would like the pairs to spread out, but not too deeply into the woods," Quinn explained. "Work together to create a Net Ward surrounding you and your partner ten meters in diameter. I will be walking amongst you, watching your work. Now begin."

The students scattered, but Harry stayed where he was. He didn't know what to do. "Excuse me, sir," Harry asked with as much respect as he could muster. "What would you like me to do?"

"Watch," Quinn replied calmly as he started to walk away.

Harry was confused. _Is he completely mad?_ "I'm sorry sir, I don't understand."

Quinn turned back to Harry, walked up close to the boy and towered over him. "You are to watch. I will not have an eleven year old boy attempting complex magic in my class."

"But I—" Harry tried to defend himself, but the man held up his hand silencing the boy.

"You may have your sixteen-year-old memories. Never the less, you are essentially eleven." Harry opened his mouth to protest. He'd been doing magic in other classes without any problem. Before he could speak, Quinn cut him off, "Not another word. Ten points from Gryffindor. Now if you continue to disrupt my class, you will find yourself in another detention. Is that understood?"

Looking up at the tall Professor looming over him, Harry felt small, humiliated, defeated. "Yes sir," he replied.

Left alone at the edge of the woods, Harry sat down on a mossy stump. He looked around for his friends. Hermione was lecturing an overly-confused Justin. Neville and Nott were working near each other, but obviously not together. Ron and Malfoy where already shouting at each other and had their wands ready to duel. _Let's see the perfect little professor deal with that._

Quinn was between the two boys a moment later. He bent down and spoke something into Malfoy's ear. Afterwards, he said something to Ron. He stepped away and to Harry's astonishment; the boys were back-to-back, wands in the air. They got to work, each creating their own half of the Net Ward.

Satisfied, Quinn moved on to Neville and Nott. In no time at all, he had those boys cooperating together as well. He made his way around working with more than half the students. Before the end of class, Ron and Malfoy had managed to encompass themselves in a thin blue bubble. It was weak, but complete.

Harry walked back to the classroom flanked by Hermione and Ron.

"Did you see us?" Ron said excitedly. "We had it. On the first day!"

"It was more unusual that you actually worked with Malfoy," Harry said.

"Yeah, er… That was strange," Ron admitted.

"What did Quinn say to you guys anyway?" Harry asked.

"Well, I don't know what he whispered to Malfoy," Ron replied. "But then he told us both that we were the two most promising students in the class. He said that if we just put our differences aside—"

Harry interrupted, "You bought that?" He said it a little more harshly then he meant to.

"What's that supposed to mean!" Ron shouted back.

"Er… well," Harry didn't know what to say. _What did I mean?_ He looked towards Hermione for some help and then back at Ron.

"Forget it!" Ron yelled and then he stormed away.

Hermione and Harry were left behind in silence. They stood there for a minute, Harry feeling pretty guilty.

"What did you mean?" Hermione finally asked.

"I didn't mean to say that he couldn't be one of the best in the class," Harry said quietly. "But isn't it obvious… Quinn's just placating him."

"Maybe," Hermione replied. "Perhaps that was not the best way to go about telling him, though. Especially since he and Malfoy did manage to progress farther than anyone else in class. He was so excited."

"Yeah," Harry said, so quietly that it was almost unheard.

Hermione changed the subject; "Quinn never came by to help us."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"I don't think he likes me," Hermione said as they started to walk again.

"At least you didn't have to watch."

"Something is up with him. Do you think we should go talk to Professor McGonagall?"

Harry shrugged. He didn't see what good it would do to go to McGonagall. She hadn't really helped them in the past.

xxxxx

Arriving just in time for potions, Harry headed up to the front of the class to turn in his essay. He was surprised at how nervous he was. The essay was horrible; he knew that. But he'd turned in bad essays before. He couldn't look Snape in the eye, half expecting the man to legilimize him on the spot and realize how deplorable he really was. When he reached out to set his essay on the stack, he couldn't stop his hand from trembling.

Returning to his seat, he was glad that they just had lecture today. Exhaustion was catching up with him and he didn't think that he'd be able to pay attention to brew.

Harry put his elbows on the desk and rested his head in his hands. Snape began to speak his lecture, emphasizing different points with dramatic prose. Harry couldn't help himself; the man's voice was mesmerizing. He was barely aware that his eyelids were becoming heavy as the world turned dark.

_His head slipped forward as his body went limp. Before his head could hit the table, a hand grabbed him by the front of his robes. His small body was lifted effortlessly, until his eyes came in contact with one irate Potions Master._

_"You stupid, arrogant boy!" Snape yelled, his nose only a few centimeters from Harry's. "Sirius wasn't enough, was he?" Harry was tossed to the ground. Expecting to hit stone, he was surprised to land on something soft—squishy. "You had to let them all die." Harry tried to stand, but couldn't. He looked down to the ground and realized it was someone—a body. "Savior of the wizarding world… you failed us all." He tried to scramble away from the body when he crawled onto another one. Everywhere he looked, there were more and more bodies. He was going to be sick._

"POTTER!" Harry was jolted awake. Back in potions class, he was met by a bunch of staring faces. "You think you can sleep in my class?" Snape spat.

Snape was right next to Harry's desk, glaring at him with the same irate look from his dreams. He scrambled as far back in his chair as he could manage. "I'm so…sorry, sir," he stuttered. A tear escaped from his eye and he wiped it away with a trembling hand. He couldn't get the image out of his head… the bodies. _I'm going to be sick!_

Leaning over his desk, he retched his entire lunch all over the dungeon floor. Only dumb luck saved him from covering Snape's shoes. _Oh no, what do I do now?_ No amount of strength could make him sit up.

He remained leaning over his desk for what seemed like an eternity, until Snape ordered, "Hospital wing! Now, Potter!"

Not needing to be told twice, Harry jumped out of his chair. Making eye contact with no one, he just ran out of the room, leaving behind his bag and who knows what, but he didn't care.

The image replayed over and over in his mind. There was no way he'd make it to the hospital wing. Slipping into the nearest boy's bathroom, he retched until his stomach was empty. Even then, he was plagued with dry heaves until his body collapsed to the stone floor. Curling up into a small ball, he silently sobbed into his arms. Crying till he could cry no more, he stayed there in silence. No one ever entered the bathroom, for which Harry was grateful.

Again, he wished he hadn't messed everything up with Snape, remembering how Snape held him before, comforting him from the nightmares. He wanted it again… just this once…

_I'm being such a baby_, Harry scolded himself. He got off the floor, washed his face, and set off to return to the Gryffindor Tower.

Entering the common room, he was bombarded by Gryffindors.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked.

At the same time, Ron said, "All over Snape's floor. I can't believe it." Apparently the boy had forgiven Harry for his earlier comments. Harry filed this knowledge away for later. _If ever Ron's angry, just sick up in the middle of Potions._

"You don't look too good," Neville commented.

Finally, Harry found his voice; it sounded strained as he spoke. "Just the flu," Harry lied. "Madame Pomfrey gave me a stomach calming draught. All I need is rest now." He tried to push his way through his friends, to get to his dormitory.

"I went to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey said you weren't there," Hermione stated.

Harry inwardly cringed. He hadn't thought about that. Of course they'd come to check on him. "It took me a while to get there," he replied. It was lame, but the first excuse he could think of.

His friends pondered the comment for a moment, and then their faces turned a bit green as they garnered understanding. Harry realized what they must have been imagining; it was true after all. He had spent quite some time bent over the porcelain bowl.

"I should get to bed," he announced. This time he didn't have to push his way through as they all parted to let him pass.

Changing into his pajamas, he had no intention of going to bed. He had a charms essay to write, not to mention he was behind in reading for transfiguration. Climbing into bed with the necessary items, he pulled the curtain shut on his four-poster bed. After warding his bed so that no light or sound would escape, Harry got to work.

xxxxx

For most students, Saturday morning was the most joyous moment of the week, but for Harry it was just another day in hell. It seemed that no matter how hard he worked, he was always behind in schoolwork. He got less and less sleep each night, as the nightmares increased.

This made it even harder to concentrate in class. On Thursday, in Herbology, he had accidentally repotted the wrong plant, much to Professor Sprout's disappointment. Surprisingly enough, defense was the easiest class all week, since all he had to do was "watch." He even slept through the entire class on Friday, without hearing anything from the overly stern teacher. But because he slept on the ground, he ended up getting dirty. In his next class, Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall took a ten-point deduction because of his sloppy appearance.

The worst class of all that week turned out to be potions, _no surprise there_. He managed to stay awake for the whole lecture, even answered some questions. At the end of class, they got their essays back. Scrawled elegantly across the top in huge red letters, _did he really have to write so big_, was the word "Declined."

No explanations were given other than, "find another potion." He wasn't so surprised that his essay wasn't good enough. But now he would need to spend another weekend searching in vain for some potion to brew. _ Was everyone else struggling as much?_ Hermione definitely wasn't. She had picked Blood Replenishing Potion ages ago. Of course, her proposal was accepted. Now she was working on acquiring the ingredients, like most of the students in the class. He needed more time, perhaps even a pass into the restricted section.

All of that would have to wait till later though. At the moment, he was stuck in the bloody Gryffindor locker room. Ron was yakking his ear off about his strategy for the tryouts. Ron had lost him somewhere after hello, and Harry was surprised when the redhead stopped talking.

"Er… okay," Harry replied.

This satisfied Ron, and they walked out to the field. A crowd of students, second through seventh year, all stood, their emotions obviously mixed with excitement and nervousness. Ron addressed the students in another one of his long, drawn out speeches. Harry contemplated hitting the boy upside the head with his broom, but before he could decide, his friend was finally done talking.

Moments later, Harry found himself in the air. At first, he thought the familiar sensation of flight would bolster his mood, but he was just too tired. Concentrating on the tryouts below him, he flew in a simple figure eight. Every once in a while, he would fly down to confer with Ron and now Ginny, who wanted to add her opinion, too.

They stopped for a short lunch—Harry didn't recall Ron eating so little since he was throwing up slugs. Then another group of hopefuls was up in the air. Most of them were an obvious "no", but Ron felt everyone needed to be given their fair share of time.

Ron called Harry down to consult. As he got closer to the ground, he realized a second year above him had just been hit by a bludger and was knocked off her broom. Reacting without thinking, he moved to catch the girl. He forgot one small detail. His body was still the size of an eleven year old—a small eleven year old.

The much larger second year smashed into Harry's body and they were both sent falling through the air. Harry hit the ground first—pain, but at least he was alive—and then the girl fell on top of him. The world went blank.

xxxxx

The next thing Harry was aware of was a soft bed. By the smell of the room, he was in the infirmary. He tried to wake, but recognized the drugged state of his mind.

He heard a voice. Even under his current condition, he recognized it as Dumbledore. "You must betray him."

"That is something I cannot do," a man replied—_Snape_. Harry pulled at his mind, willing himself to wake. He wanted to get to the man… he had to be there for a reason.

"You are making matters worse," Dumbledore replied. The old man seemed mad; _did he ever get mad?_

Someone shifted nervously to Harry's left; _it has to be Snape_. Instinctively, he tried to reach out.

"He's waking up. Get out of here," Dumbledore commanded.

Harry lifted his head, opened his eyes, and tried to look around. The world was blurry, dizzy…"Snape," he whispered and then passed out.

Author's Note:

So I've had a couple comments I'd like to address. One was about Harry undergoing a lot of stuff in a short amount of time, so the story wasn't too realistic. There's going to be a lot more stuff that happens to Harry, so be warned. The other comment was about the Ginny/Harry relationship. As you can see, I'm hinting at it a little. It's really not going to be the main point of the story, nor are the balls/dances. (My fic is not a romance.) If you stick with the fic, I do have a purpose for these things…

Coming Soon:

Chapter 13: Explosion… you can expect to see this in about two weeks. (Unless I can surprise you with an earlier update.)


	13. Explosion

Chapter 13

Explosion

xxxxx

Harry woke up Sunday morning in the Hospital Wing. Nestled deep into the warm bed, he almost felt blissful. The bedside table had a vase full of freshly picked flowers, along with a card and a pile of treats. Although the items were a bit blurry without his glasses, he knew they were from his friends. _They must always have something on hand, as often as I'm injured, _Harry mused. Turning to his side, he curled up and wished that sleep would reclaim him. He hadn't slept so well—free of nightmares—since he was back at Grimmauld Place… with Snape.

The memories and all the associated feelings came back to him at once, hitting him hard like a bludger to the stomach. Suddenly, sleep didn't seem too welcoming. He'd wasted enough time as it was. Saturday was over and now only Sunday remained to catch up on his studies. He had to write a new proposal for Snape.

Quickly he pulled on his glasses and checked his watch. Exactly how much of Sunday was left? With a sigh, he relaxed. It was still early, just before breakfast. He got out of bed and spotted his pile of clothes. A note was placed on top of them.

"Remedial Potions, 8 p.m., Tuesdays and Fridays." It wasn't signed, but it didn't have to be. Harry knew who the note was from. Instead of impending doom, as he often felt towards his occlumency lessons, he actually felt hopeful. He remembered Snape had been there for him, when he was hurt. And now they were going to meet again—in private. Perhaps the truth would be revealed. It had all been an act. _Snape had to pretend to hate me. After all, there are death eaters in training around every corner…_

Harry stood barefooted on the cold stone floor, staring at his note. He reread it, scrutinizing each and every curve of the fancy scrawl for some hidden meaning. He felt stupid, after the way Snape had treated him since he had returned to school. But he knew there was something between the two of them. He had slept, clinging tightly to Snape's arm, for a whole night for Merlin's sake!

"Harry Potter!" Madame Pomfrey snapped. Startled out of his musings, Harry dropped the letter to the ground and turned to the mediwitch. "What are you doing out of bed, young man?"

"I, er…" Harry stuttered. He was caught between fleeing back to bed or standing his ground. Deciding on the latter, he said, "I'm feeling much better now. I'd like to go."

"You let me be the judge of that," she said, pointing her wand to direct him back to bed.

Begrudgingly, he climbed back onto the bed and sat, allowing his legs to dangle over the edge. Madame Pomfrey started in on her usual charms as she examined Harry's vitals. _Why does everyone treat me like I'm just a child?_ he thought. _I'm not little anymore… er, well mentally anyway_.

"You hit the ground fairly hard," Pomfrey explained while she worked, "but you didn't break any bones. And even though you hit your head hard enough to pass out, you do not have a concussion. Your wounds were superficial bruises that were easily healed last night." Pomfrey finished her wand work and stooped to look Harry squarely in the eye, like a mother hen. "However, you are malnourished and exhausted. Your eleven-year-old body cannot handle the same hours as your sixteen-year-old one. From now on, you are to go to bed at a reasonable hour. Also, you need to choose a more nutritious meal, not all sweets and treats. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Harry replied quickly. He didn't want to bring up the nightmares that plagued his sleep, nor the sickening dream that caused him to vomit for half a day—he still felt nauseous thinking about it.

Satisfied, Madame Pomfrey continued, "You are excused. You take care of yourself and heed my words. Otherwise, you will be back in here before you know it." Pomfrey wandered off to care for some other ailing student and Harry dressed quickly.

He gathered up his gifts, minus the flowers—he could only carry so much, after all—and left the infirmary. Halfway back to his dorm, he ran into his friends.

"Hey, Harry," Ron greeted from afar. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," he replied.

"You gave us such a fright," Hermione said. She still looked a little concerned. "Madame Pomfrey said you weren't hurt that bad, but you wouldn't wake up. And—"

Harry waved her off, "I was just overtired. Pomfrey said I was doing too much, staying up late—you know. I'll be fine." He already regretted what he said. Hermione got a gleam in her eye—she would make sure Harry got the rest he needed.

"Oh, and Harry, you'll never guess," Ron said as he stepped in front of Harry to stop their progress. He put his hand on Harry's shoulder and leaned down—he looked much like an older brother. "You don't remember who took you to the infirmary, do you?" Harry shook his head. "Snape! Of all people. He came out of nowhere, swooped down, picked you up, and rushed you off to the Hospital Wing."

He couldn't help himself. Harry smiled—a huge silly grin that only Harry was capable of conjuring. "What do you think he was doing at the Quidditch field?" he asked.

"I have no idea," Ron replied. "Maybe he was looking after you. Perhaps the git doesn't hate you after all." Harry's smile got a bit bigger. Ron put an arm over the boy's shoulder and they continued walking back to the dormitory.

After a while, Harry spoke again. "I got a note. He wants to start Remedial Potions. Do you think he'll explain things then?"

"I don't know, maybe," Ron replied.

"I heard something," Harry said, "last night when I started to wake up. Dumbledore was talking to Snape." At this, both Ron and Hermione's interest perked up. "He seemed mad, told Snape he had to betray _him_. Who do you think he's talking about? Me?"

"How would Snape betray you?" Hermione stated, more than asked. "Dumbledore must be talking about Voldemort."

"But why would Dumbledore want that?" Harry asked.

"Well, Voldemort might have asked him to do something he shouldn't," Hermione replied.

"As if Voldemort has never asked Snape to do something wrong," Harry retorted.

"Well, I don't know," Hermione said, throwing her arms up in the air. "I don't see how Dumbledore would want Snape to betray you. What is there to betray? Besides, he's always wanted the two of you to get along."

"Not this time," Harry replied. "Something is up."

"Perhaps," Hermione said, but she sounded skeptical. Ron didn't look all that convinced either. This hurt Harry—his smile disappeared. He wanted his friends to understand. If they just knew about the summer, but he couldn't tell them.

Something had to be up with Dumbledore. Why else did Snape hate him again? Harry didn't want to think of _why else_…but he knew of plenty of reasons drilled into him his first eleven years of life. He was a freak, a bad boy; no one could love him. He tried to shake off the Dursley's words, but it got harder with each passing moment. What did Dumbledore mean? He decided he'd ask Snape during the occlumency lessons.

xxxxx

The Harry remained subdued, studying quietly until lunch. In the Great Hall, his mood perked up in light of Ron's excitement.

"I'm going to be with Hagrid for the rest of the day," Ron announced.

"Really?" Harry asked. "But why?"

"We're going to the Black Forest," Ron explained. "There has been a suspected Erkling attack on a village. Two girls are missing. The German Ministry of Magic asked Dumbledore for help. Did you know Dumbledore was friends with the German Minister?" Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Ron continued on talking quickly. "Well, they're putting together a team to go in and investigate. Hagrid asked Dumbledore if I could go along. We'll be working well into the night." Harry caught eyes with Hermione; _honestly is Ron going to breathe?_ Hermione rolled her eyes and continued eating. Apparently, she'd heard all of this from Ron earlier. "I might be gone all day Monday. Excused from classes! Can you believe that Hagrid got me out of Defense and Transfiguration?" Again, Ron didn't wait for a response. Harry noticed his friend's face was getting a bit red. "Professor Sprout doesn't mind that I'm missing Herbology, though. Made Hagrid promise to bring back some rare plants. Oh, and did you know, we might be able to find some Al.. Ales—" finally Ron paused as he struggled to remember the name.

"Alesco," Hermione clarified without looking up from paper she was now reading.

"Right, Alesco," Ron carried on. "We might be able to find an Alesco plant. Hopefully, it will be well enough to transplant. Bet you'd be excited if we could."

Ron looked over at Harry expectedly, but for the life of him, Harry didn't know why he should be excited. "I don't understand. What is Alesco?" Harry asked.

"Well, only the key ingredient to your potion," Ron clarified.

Hermione set her paper aside and joined the conversation. "You aren't familiar with the Alesco Plant?"

Harry's face reddened. Thinking hard, he tried to remember if he'd read about it in the past, but he was coming up with a complete blank. In the end, he just shrugged.

"It's okay, Harry," Hermione responded. "It's a rare plant. I figured you would know about it, since it is the one thing Snape needs to get in order to finish your potion. He didn't talk to you about it?"

"No," Harry replied. With further thought, he added, "So how do you know about the plant?"

It was Hermione's turn to blush. "Well, when Snape gave us the long brewing potions assignment, I asked him if I could do your Age Accelerator. The girl looked a bit guilty, but Harry nodded her on. "He said, in not the friendliest manner, that I could not possibly complete the potion, because, apparently, the Alesco Plants seem to have all but disappeared."

"What?" Harry asked.

"I did a bit of research," Hermione replied. "I found that the plant is very rare and quite delicate. So, in short, it's hard to find, in the wild or from an apothecary."

"Don't worry mate," Ron said as he clapped a hand down on Harry's shoulder, "I'm sure we'll find it." Harry turned back to his meal and tried not to worry. He had enough things to worry about as it was. Ron quickly ate the rest of his sandwich, excused himself, and then darted out of the Great Hall.

The rest of the day, Hermione and Harry studied in the common room. Harry had wanted to work on his potions proposal, but Hermione reminded him of the test in Transfiguration on Monday. They waded through a lot of material and before he knew it, it was time for dinner. Afterwards, they spent some time reading ahead for Defense.

With that done, Harry pulled out his Potions book. Before he could open it, Hermione pulled the book away.

Confused, Harry looked up. Hermione stood, arms crossed, with a very firm look on her face. Strangely, she reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall. "It is time for you to go to bed," she ordered.

Harry coughed; glancing around the room feeling embarrassed. "Hermione, I'm not—" he protested, but the girl cut him off.

"You were released from the Hospital Wing this morning," Hermione lectured. "Madame Pomfrey said you have been staying up too late. Now it's nine-thirty, time for bed." She grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him out of the chair.

"I am not little boy," Harry whined.

"Physically, you're eleven," she continued as she dragged Harry up the stairs. He couldn't believe it—she couldn't possibly be putting him to bed. "Now, I expect you to be in your pajamas and in bed. I'll be back to check on you."

She turned and walked out the room before Harry could mutter, "Yes, mother." Harry felt angry, embarrassed, and frustrated. Nevertheless, he did as he was told. He figured he would humor the girl, in order to avert the imminent lecture and confrontation. After she "checked in," Harry could get up, spell his bed curtains, and get to studying. He hadn't realized that in his attempt to feign sleep, he might actually drift off. Tired as he was, though, sleep he did.

xxxxx

Harry didn't see Ron again until Herbology on Monday. The red head walked into class, looking a little worse for wear. He had in his hands a small plant, with bright red leaves. The roots must have been wrapped magically, because the dirt remained packed when there was nothing to hold them together.

After seeing Ron, and his precious cargo, Professor Sprout squealed in excitement. She excused the class early and disappeared into her private greenhouse.

"Is that what I think it is?" Harry asked Ron.  
"Yes," Ron beamed. "I found it this morning, right outside our campsite!"

"So, I'll be back to my sixteen year old self soon!"

"Er… well, yes and no."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, his face dropping.

"Well, first the plant has to be stabilized before anything can be harvested," Ron explained. Harry nodded to show that he understood, so Ron continued. "Your potion requires the taproot from a seedling. So you have to wait until it produces a seed and then the seed needs to germinate…"

"So, how long will that take?"

"The Alesco Plant only reproduces towards the end of the summer. We've already reached the end of the season for this year, so—"

"What!" Harry shouted.

Ron looked uncomfortable, as though he didn't know how to proceed.

"Don't worry," Neville piped up. Neither Ron nor Harry had realized Neville was listening to their conversation. The boy continued, "Professor Sprout can create conditions so that the plant believes it is summer again. These are greenhouses after all."

Both Harry and Ron blushed. What Neville said was obvious.

"I better go," Ron said suddenly. "I need to shower and rest. Need to be ready for Quidditch practice."

"What?" Harry asked before Ron could run off.

"Oh, I decided we need to get started on practices, since we have so many new players. So practice is after dinner. Tell the others for me, will you?" Ron sprinted away before Harry could respond.

Neville and Harry walked back to the castle together.

"I need to go to the library," Harry said. "To work on my potions proposal."

"Yours didn't get approved?" Neville asked, but he didn't sound all that surprised.

"No, did yours?"

"Yeah, I'm doing the Polyjuice Potion."

"What!" Harry shouted. Neville stepped back nervously. "Snape didn't let me do the Polyjuice, but he's allowing you?"

"He did say only one person per potion," Neville pointed out.

"Yeah, I suppose," Harry replied. He still felt a bit cheated, but he knew it wasn't Neville's fault.

"I'll help you find another potion," Neville suggested.

"Thanks, Neville, but do you really have the time?"

"Yeah, no problem."

"Okay," Harry agreed.

They went straight to the library and got right to work. Hermione found them after a while and joined in. Finally, they found some obscure potion that Harry was sure to impress Snape. He started in on his proposal while the others worked on the defense reading.

In no time at all, dinner hour arrived, and they all made their way down to the great hall. After dinner, Ron dragged his reluctant team down to the Quidditch pitch. They ran nothing but drills, flying in tight complicated patterns. They continued to practice even when the sun set, leaving them in darkness. It wasn't until Hermione came down that Ron called it a day.

Harry was glad to have the company, as Hermione dragged he and Ron off to bed. Too tired, he didn't even bother to fake sleep.

Around midnight, Harry woke with a start when he remembered his Occlumency lesson tomorrow. It was a strange feeling—excitement combined with dread. He decided to finish his potions proposal for class, just in case it would make Snape happy—or proud—or well maybe less disappointed.

He didn't realize until around three in the morning that the potion he had chosen would be quite expensive to brew. It required a gold caldron, as well as numerous rare ingredients. _No matter_, he decided. He did have a vault full of gold after all.

At exactly five-fifty-three, he finished the proposal. He had just about enough time to nod off before he had to wake for breakfast.

xxxxx

The next day, he approached Snape's desk, proposal in hand, with a silly grin on his face. He was proud of himself, if not a bit cocky, that he had managed to finish the essay. Snape watched him with a glare, no doubt thinking up a bunch of insults. To Harry's surprise, Snape remained speechless until it was time for class to begin.

Once everyone was there, Snape gave short, minimal instructions and the class got to work. Glad to be partnered up with Hermione, Harry got started on the grunt work. He had discovered during lunch just how funny things could be when one was overly tired. Mashing newt eyes, it would seem, was just as entertaining. He had to bite his lip to contain a laugh as the mashing made all sorts of disgusting sounds. Suddenly, he lost control of one of the eyes. Hitting it at a wrong angle, it shot out of the bowl and pelted the back Neville's head. The boy turned around to glare, but relaxed when he saw Harry's apologetic look.

Both boys turned back quickly to see if Snape noticed, waiting for the impending insult or lost points. Snape hadn't even looked up from his desk, which was surprising enough. But even more shocking was that he was reading Harry's proposal.

Harry's face was again filled with a silly grin, until Hermione elbowed him hard. He got back to work, occasionally rubbing a sore arm. Midway through the class, Snape got up to stalk around the classroom, issuing his customary insults.

At the end of class, Hermione was bottling a sample of the potion while Harry cleaned up. All the while, she muttered to herself, "Probably not enough newt eyes."

Harry rolled his eyes and escaped class with Neville, before Snape or Hermione could start in on him. He spent the rest of the day playing games, such as chess with Ron or Exploding Snap with Ginny and Neville. Never once that afternoon did he open a textbook. His excitement over the possibility of impressing Snape spilled over into the games and he found himself having fun--real fun that he hadn't had in a long time.

His giggly mood couldn't be subdued, even as he stood outside of Snape's office hours later. He knocked lightly at the door.

"Enter," Snape's muffled voice commanded.

Harry opened the door, stepped inside and then closed the door behind him. Snape then warded the door and Harry waited expectedly. When no explanation followed, Harry opened his mouth to ask if Snape liked his proposal.

Snape spoke first, "Have you practiced Occlumency?"

The boy was caught a bit off balance by Snape's abruptness. "I, er…" was all he managed to stammer.

"I thought as much," Snape snapped. Harry's heart sank with Snape's cold voice. "_Legilimens_." He felt Snape's mind riffling through his memories. "Push me out, Potter," Snape yelled, in the present and in his memories. It was too much. A moment later, Harry was on the ground, breathing heavily. "Pitiful," Snape commented. Fighting back the tears, Harry stood back up, ready for another attack. "Sit down," Snape commanded instead. Quickly, Harry obeyed and took the seat opposite Snape's desk. "I will not waste my time as I did last year," Snape began. "If you are not willing to practice clearing your mind, these lessons will mean nothing." Harry started to complain. He didn't know how to clear his mind, but Snape waved him off. "Dumbledore has found this book for you." Snape slammed an enormous book down in front of Harry. "You will read it and practice some of the techniques. Otherwise, do not bother to show up to your next lesson."

Harry nodded, determined to show Snape that he would do as he was told. He sat quietly as Snape riffled through some papers on his desk. Snape pulled out the parchment that Harry recognized as his potions proposal. Even from across the desk, Harry could make out the big red letters that spelt, "Declined."

"What were you thinking?" Snape asked.

"I, er… well," Harry didn't know how to respond.

"It is completely impractical," Snape continued. "Not only would it cost a fortune, it takes sixth months to brew. I highly doubt you'll be able to make a satisfactory sample your first try, but you would be unable to try again." Snape paused and waited for Harry to respond. By now, Harry had his face down, unable to meet Snape's glare. "I have decided your proposal can wait, as you obviously can't handle your course load. For now, focus on your Occlumency. Perhaps later, when you're back to your sixteen-year-old body, you can work on your proposal. Otherwise, I suggest you consider dropping potions."

At that, Harry looked up. Snape knew Harry needed potions for the Auror program. Didn't the man care? It was obvious from Snape's scowl that he did not.

"Now, get out," Snape commanded.

Harry got up, lugging the impossibly large book with him. He stopped before he opened the door. "What happened, sir?" Harry asked without turning around to face the man. "I thought things changed between us. We were getting on better. Why do you hate me again? Is it--"

Snape cut him off, "Isn't that what you wanted?" The man's voice was bitter, filled with such venom it was startling.

"What!" Harry asked. He turned around just in time to see Snape storming towards him. Holding tighter to the book, as if it were a shield, he braced for impact.

Snape merely opened the door for him, pushed him into the hall, and said, "Get out."

Harry stood there for a while, staring at Snape's closed door. He was confused more than upset. _What is Snape talking about?_

xxxxx

Friday morning, he made his way down to Defense with Hermione, Ron, and Neville. His friends knew enough to leave him alone, irritable as he was.

Last night's Quidditch practice had run too long. The whole team was frustrated because they couldn't seem to complete Ron's new set of drills. Harry said—in no uncertain terms—that he had had enough.

The next victim to his temper was none other than Hermione, who as usual, told him it was time to go to bed. This time, Harry stood up for himself and didn't back down and yelled at Hermione until she left the room crying. He tried to convince himself that the meddlesome girl deserved it, but he knew he was being a prat.

Glares from the common room had sent Harry fleeing to bed. There, he pulled out his Occlumency book and failed another attempt to clear his mind.

After a restless night, Harry rolled out of bed—red eyed and grumpy. The mood was hard to shake, even when all he had to do was "sit and watch" the others practice blocking spells in defense.

The class started off as usual. Everyone broke off into their customary teams. Quinn walked around the class, starting with Ron and Malfoy first. It was becoming obvious to Harry that the Professor favored purebloods and hardly ever bothered to help Justin and Hermione.

"Hey, Harry?" Hannah asked in a hushed voice. Harry looked up at the girl, but didn't say anything. "Can you help us with the spell? Susan, Lavender, and I can't seem to get it right. And we don't want to get in trouble."

Harry glanced quickly over to Quinn, who was busy helping Bulstrode and Parkinson. "Sure," he whispered back. He got out of his chair and pulled out his wand. "Watch me," he instructed. Holding his wand close to his body, he started to make a circular motion. "You say the first part of the charm as you circle your wand. You should be able to feel the shield." By now, the three girls were standing around him, copying his motions. "You say the second part of the charm as you push out from your body. Here, watch me." Harry did as he described, saying the charm, "_Contego Promoveo_." He hadn't actually performed the spell yet, seeing as he wasn't allowed to in class. But he understood the material well enough and he wasn't surprised to be successful his first time. "Now, one of you curse me," Harry ordered. Susan obeyed and her curse was deflected easily.

Instead, it was redirected towards Ron, who started dancing foolishly as he sang like a young girl. While trying not to laugh, Harry said the counter charm.

"Thanks, mate," Ron replied.

Harry gave the boy a nod and turned back to the girls, deciding he rather enjoyed teaching defense. He was about to ask Hannah to try the spell, until he was reminded of the teacher's presence.

"Mr. Potter," Quinn snapped. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Er… I," Harry stammered.

"You were told to sit and watch," Quinn scolded. "You are lucky Miss Bones sent a reasonable curse, otherwise your uncontrolled shield may have caused more damage."

Staring back at Quinn, Harry thought up a several savvy retorts, but held his tongue.

"I have allowed you to remain in my class, regardless of your incapacity," Quinn continued. "But I will not allow you to endanger the other students. You will learn your place, young man. Now go stand in the corner."

"What!" Harry shouted, a little louder than he should have.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Quinn snapped back. "Now, do as you're told."

Harry wavered for a moment, but then filled with resolve. There was no way he would stand in the corner. "No," he replied calmly.

"Detention, Mr. Potter. Now, do as you're told or it will be one week." By now the whole class was silent, intently watching the scene unfold. Harry didn't move, meeting Quinn's glare eye to eye. "Move boy, or it will be two." Quinn's face twisted from his scowl to frustration. His body lost its composure as he extended an arm to point towards the corner. "Three weeks," Quinn shouted, loosing control of his anger. Harry remained stock-still and calm. Suddenly, Quinn reached out to grab Harry by the arm, but the boy drew back, causing the man to stubble a bit. Thoroughly embarrassed, Quinn straightened back up and smoothed his robes. "Four weeks," he spat. "Now do as you're told, or so help me—"

"You'll what?" Harry shot back, "make it five? I don't care if I have detention until the end of term. I will not stand in the corner."

"Get out of my classroom," Quinn ordered.

"My pleasure," Harry replied sarcastically.

He left the room full of dumfounded students and one irate defense teacher. It wasn't until he was halfway to Transfiguration that he realized exactly what he had done. He sat down outside of McGonagall's classroom and waited. A while later, students arrived saying, "Way to go, Harry" and other sorts of compliments as they went into the classroom. Before Hermione and Ron could come up and say something, Harry got up and entered the classroom. He sat down between two random students, ensuring they couldn't sit next to him.

McGonagall lectured them, but Harry was hard pressed to pay attention. He was too busy ignoring the questioning looks from his friends. When it was time to get to work, Harry didn't really have the slightest clue on how to transfigure the book before him. The task seemed simple enough, make the transfiguration book appear to be another book of your choosing. But in reality, changing the cover and then each and every page into something completely different—and legible—was not a simple task at all.

"Bloody hell," Harry shouted in frustration.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," McGonagall stated. "You will watch you language in my class, Mr. Potter, otherwise you will find yourself in detention."

"Good luck in finding the time," Harry muttered to himself, not as quietly as he had hoped.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Potter, I think I can find the time. I do believe the undersides of the tables are in need of a good scrubbing. I suggest you loose your attitude, before I decide to extend your detention."

Out of frustration, Harry rolled his eyes—not the best of decisions—but McGonagall didn't say if she noticed.

After a few more failed attempts at transfiguring his textbook, class was over. He knew it was futile to avoid his friends and didn't bother trying.

On their way to the Great Hall it was Hermione who spoke first. "Harry, are you all right?"

Harry just snorted in response.

"Are you going completely mad?" Ron blurted out. "Harry, if you keep this up, you're going to get yourself expelled or something."

"Look," Harry shouted as he stopped walking. "I'll be fine. Like Dumbledore would expel his _Golden Boy_. And if he did, I could care less. Now leave me be!" He stormed off, with the others lagging behind.

At lunch, he mindlessly shoved food in his mouth. He was taking care to have a mouth full at all times, so that he couldn't possibly reply to any inane questioning.

It was in this mood that he stalked down to Potions. Hermione and Neville walked with him, a few paces behind. Rounding the corner at his fast pace, Harry almost ran into Malfoy.

"Why is that the miniature Potty?" Malfoy taunted. "Still having your temper tantrum."

Harry had his wand out so quickly, Malfoy didn't have a chance to react. "_Petrificus Totalus,_" he stated calmly. Malfoy's body fell back rigidly, hitting the stone floor hard. Harry continued walking, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

Entering the classroom, Harry was pleasantly surprised to see that he, Neville and Hermione were the last to arrive—save Malfoy, of course—so it would be a while before anyone noticed Malfoy's condition.

Harry was somewhat pleased with himself, until he noticed Snape stand. The man was stiff and somewhat shaky. It was subtle; likely no one noticed. But Harry did. Snape was in pain. During the lecture, Harry studied the Potion's master, seeking out any signs of an injury. All of his previous anger and frustration melted into concern.

With the instructions spelled onto the board, Snape began his usual stalk around the classroom. Completely oblivious to Hermione's prodding, Harry continued to study Snape. The man didn't favor either limb nor did he protect some injury to the ribs. His whole body was tense, as if each muscle and bone was suffering.

Without thinking, Harry reached out to Snape as the man passed by. He laid a hand down on the man's arm and quietly asked, "Are you okay, sir?"

Snape quickly recoiled from Harry's touch and fixed the boy with the deadliest of all glares. "Potter! You insolent… how dare you…" For the first time in Harry's memory, the Potions Master was at a loss for words.

Harry filled the void, as he felt his own anger return full force. "What the hell is wrong with you, Snape?" Harry shouted. "I am just worried about you. Obviously you're in pain." Snape didn't respond, although his glare did soften—a bit. Harry rolled his eyes and said, "This is the last time I ask you. What did I do?"

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," Snape shouted, finally snapping out of his silence. "Now, get back to work." Snape turned and stalked away.

Harry stood where he was, unable to move. The anger and pain swelled inside of him, until it was too much to hold inside. So he let it go. "You bastard!" he shouted. Simultaneously, as the sound of his voice filled the room, a real, tangible blast radiated out of him. Glass vials shattered, cauldrons and ingredients shifted, even several of the students stumbled.

A moment later, Harry did the first thing that came to his mind. He ran. Neglecting his bag or any of his belongings, he fled the dungeons. Never slowing his pace, he ran until he was back in his Gryffindor dormitory.

He stayed on his bed, trying to suppress all thought.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked cautiously, her voice full of concern.

Moaning, Harry rolled over to face the girl. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Professor Snape excused us right after you left," Neville reported as he too entered the room.

"I'm dead," Harry whined. "There's no way out of this."

"A little accidental magic, Harry. It's not the end of the world," Hermione supplied.

"A _little_ accidental magic!" Harry mocked. "I practically blew up." Hermione and Neville stayed by the bedside for a while, unsure what to say.

"Look, Harry, why don't you come down to the common room," Hermione suggested. "We could play some games or something. To keep your mind off… well, you know."

"No thanks, Hermione," Harry said, his voice muffled by the pillow he had stuffed his head under. "I think I'll just rest. You know how much I need my rest."

"Okay," Hermione conceded, "but remember, we're just downstairs if you need to talk."

Exhausted as he was, Harry drifted off into a restless sleep, waking every hour or so from another dream. After his third or forth time, he got up and pulled the curtains closed around his bed. Several hours of tossing—or just lying around depressed—passed before Harry was bothered again.

"Harry," Ron's voice whispered. "Are you awake, mate?"

"Yeah," Harry replied.

Ron pulled the curtain open and poked his head in. "I brought you up some dinner."

"Thanks," Harry said, but made no move to get the food.

"Hermione told me about what happened. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"I was told to give you this note."

Harry took the note from Ron's outstretched hand, sat up and unfolded the parchment. The note read, "Come to my office, noon tomorrow," signed, "Albus Dumbledore."

"I'm gonna be expelled," Harry groaned as he rolled back over.

"Oh Harry," Ron chided. "We've done bad stuff before."

"Not like today, Ron. Now, please, can you leave me alone?" Harry pleaded.

"Sure, but come and find me, if you need to talk."

Harry didn't respond, in fact he didn't move again until nature called. Before crawling back into bed, he changed into his pajamas. For the first time since Grimmauld Place, he pulled out his plushie Hedwig. I've finally done it; I've messed up enough to get expelled. And now they're going to send me back to the Dursley's. He curled up into a ball, clutching his Hedwig tightly, trying desperately not to think.

xxxxx

Author's Note:

So I hoped that you guys liked the new chapter. Comments would be appreciated… I also hope that my "explosion" met with your expectations, even though it was not a potion accident. For all you Snape/Harry fans out there, mean Snape is not going to last long… never fear.

Coming Soon:

Chapter Fourteen: Fall Out


	14. Fall Out

Chapter 14

Fall Out

xxxxx

As the sun slipped below the horizon, Harry drifted off into a restless sleep. Not much time passed before he began to dream.

_Standing amongst the headstones, he was quick to recognize the setting… Riddle's Graveyard. It looked exactly the same as it did the day of the Triwizard Tournament. Slowly, he crept around the cemetery, half expecting Cedric to appear—to start accusing him with empty eyes. His death was Harry's fault after all. Harry knew it wasn't real, that it was just his guilt, but it was always terrifying. Harry didn't want to go on; he willed his feet to stop— _

_Harry tried desperately to wake, y__et something was off about this dream. A slight wind could be felt on his cheeks, and a growing chill crept through his bare feet. He could feel the frost covering the ground... what was wrong? It was too vivid… too real._

_An evil cackle filled the air, chilling Harry to the core. Suddenly, he realized this was a vision, not a dream. His fear only caused the evil wizard's laugh to increase._

_Voldemort can sense my fear, Harry thought with a start._

_"Why yes, Potter," Voldemort's hiss escaped Harry's mouth. "Now, Fenrir come." Harry tried to look up at the sky. Was it the full moon already? But instead his face turned towards the evil werewolf, its red eyes peering straight into his soul. "Bring him to me," Voldemort commanded._

Harry bolted up in his bed; he could still feel the eyes upon him. He was marked and now the werewolves were coming. Something had to be done and fast. His first thoughts drifted to Snape. He needed the man's help. Could he go to Snape? He really wanted to. But he was on his own; he had to deal with this himself.

Crawling to the end of his bed, he leaned down and retrieved his Occlumency book from his trunk. After putting on his glasses and casting a lumos with his wand, he opened the book to the most promising technique. In his first attempt, he thought he was making progress until the pain in his scar intensified. _I need Snape_; Harry thought. _Surely he would help me—if not for me, then to protect Hogwarts._ A couple of failed attempts to occlude sent Harry out of bed and over to his friend. His mind was made up. He had to at least ask for Snape.

"Ron," Harry whispered urgently as he shook the sleeping boy. "Ron, please, wake up."

Moaning, Ron began to stir. Rubbing his eyes, he said, "What's wrong, Harry?"

"Voldemort!"

That had Ron awake quickly and climbing out of bed. "Did you have a vision?"

"Sort of. Look…this might sound crazy, but I need to get to Snape. He's the only one who can help." _Assuming he will help._

"But, Harry, are you sure?" Ron asked, thoroughly confused. The pain from Harry's scar doubled, causing him to cry out and his knees to buckle. Catching him before he could fall, Ron said, "Let's go."

They walked together, Harry holding tightly to Ron in order not to fall. Descending the stairs, they were somewhat surprised to find the Common Room occupied by a couple of staff members.

Looking around the room, Harry saw McGonagall, Dumbedore and—"Snape, please," Harry begged, reaching his arms out to the man. He was relieved to see Snape, but at the same time, fearful of rejection.

Snape quelled Harry's fears by instantly rushing to his side. In one swift motion, he scooped the boy up into his arms. Harry clung tightly as they flooed down to Snape's quarters. The man was so fast, they were gone before anyone could say another word.

"Try not to think about anything, Harry," Snape instructed as he set the boy down on the couch. Sitting next to him, Snape pulled him close and then entered his mind. Harry could feel Snape pushing his thoughts aside, searching out the evil intrusion. It was a much harder task this time than before back at Grimmauld Place. At the time when he was five, Snape had already started to be nicer to him. But this time Harry kept thinking about all the situations with Snape—all the hurt and desperation. But slowly, patiently, the man cleared Harry's mind, pushed out Voldemort's connection, until Harry was cognizant of nothing except the rise and fall of Snape's chest. Completely relaxed, he finally slipped off to a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, he awoke in a warm soft bed. A thick blue comforter was tucked around him. At first, he was confused, until he remembered the night before. He smiled to himself, remembering the speed with which Snape reacted. There hadn't been any hesitation.

Rolling to his side, he surveyed the unfamiliar room. It was clean and simple, with only the traditional bedroom furniture. No personal trinkets were found in the room, suggesting that it was reserved for guests. There were no windows, yet the room was still illuminated with natural light. Looking around for the source of the light, he was surprised to find nothing.

_Magic is wonderful_, Harry mused.

Wanting nothing more than to stay wrapped in the bed's warmth, Harry continued to contemplate the wonders of magic. His life had changed so much since the day Hagrid showed up and called him a wizard. He had gained so much, a vault filled with gold, an owl, a new school, and new friends… so much more than he had at the Dursley's. For a while, he even had a Godfather.

But the more he gained, the more he risked losing. He had lost Sirius.

And now he thought about Snape. The man who tormented him for five years… Snape had hated him. Yet, over the summer, something had changed, or at least Harry thought as much. After that… well Snape's tormenting ways had an even harsher bite, because Harry had trusted the man. Last night, Snape had made it evident that he was once again worthy of trust, just like he had over the summer. But would things change again?

This fear kept Harry in bed.

There were two possible outcomes. One, Snape would be somewhat civil. Perhaps explaining the last few weeks as some horrible misunderstanding. Otherwise it would be, "Get out, Potter. I'll be nice next full moon."

Harry pulled the covers tight around him. The bed was warm, safe. But he knew he had to get up, face the world. Either way, he had to know.

With a sigh, he pushed off the covers. Retrieving his glasses off the bedside table, he slipped them on. Climbing off the bed, his feet met ice-cold stones. Slowly, he crept across the room.

Opening the door, he found it led to a short hallway. There were two more closed doors, one directly in front of him and the other at the end of the hall to the right. To the left the hallway opened up into a dining area. Harry made his way to the table and was pleasantly surprised to see a plate of toast—complete with strawberry jam—waited for him.

_Ah, toast with Snape_, Harry realized.

Where was Snape? From the table, Harry could see the couch he sat on the night before, so he knew he was still in the man's quarters. The room was completely silent, with the exception of the crackling fire.

Settling down at the table, Harry picked up the first piece of toast—still warm and crispy. He washed it down with a swig of ice-cold pumpkin juice. As he took the next bite, the door beyond the couch opened up and in stalked the Potions Master.

Snape looked angry, a full scowl fixed on his face. But as soon as he caught sight of Harry, he schooled his expression until it was completely unreadable. Harry briefly made eye contact, but then looked away.

Suddenly, eating toast became an all-consuming activity, requiring all of Harry's attention. He was only slightly aware of Snape crossing the room and then sitting down opposite Harry.

The silence was awkward. Harry wanted to say something. Hundreds of questions flowed through his head, but none of them seemed appropriate.

It was Snape who broke the silence. "I trust you slept well," he prompted.

Harry's head shot up. It was such a strange question—civil—cordial. "Yes," he replied politely. Snape took a drink of his coffee. _Where did the coffee come from?_ Harry wondered. Shaking off the distraction, Harry said the first thing that came to mind. "What was Voldemort doing last night?"

"He used his mental connection to you to help direct the werewolves," Snape explained.

"How?"

"You recall the potion I told you about?" Snape asked. "The one the Dark Lord is using to control the werewolves."

"Yes," Harry replied. He remembered Snape mentioning something about a potion back when he first arrived at Grimmauld Place… not that he knew anything about it.

"Well, he used his connection to you to get into your mind and then merely commanded the werewolves to come."

"It didn't feel like that." Harry shuddered as he recalled the evil eyes piercing into his soul.

"No, I expect not," Snape confirmed. "He stayed as far away from your conscious thought as possible."

Harry pondered that for a while and then it occurred to him, "Could Voldemort tell that you helped me?"

"I would not be so careless."

"Oh," Harry replied. He continued to eat his toast, trying to formulate his next question. He wanted to ask if Snape hated him—or if the man would go back to hating him… Instead he blurted out, "Do you know how my relatives are?" _Where did that come from? Do I really care?_ Harry mused. He was curious and perhaps mildly concerned.

Snape did not seem to be fazed by the rapid change in subject and continued to explain in the same manner. "They are about the same as before. An Unspeakable from the ministry has been watching them. They sit around all day. At night, they move to eat and relieve themselves."

"Do you have any idea why?"

"Yes," Snape replied and then paused, contemplating whether or not to continue. "They were given a derivative of the potion given to the werewolves."

"What potion is this? Is it in a book or something?"

"No, it's not in a book," Snape replied. "It's called the Feratillis Potion. Now, no more questions about the potion."

Harry waited for a moment and then disregarded Snape's comment to ask, "Did you create the potion?" Snape's reply was a scowl and Harry wisely kept his mouth shut after that.

As Harry got closer to finishing his last bit of toast, he took smaller bites in order to make it last. He still hadn't asked the one question that was driving him mad and Snape didn't seem like he was going to start talking anytime soon. _Oh spit it out_, Harry berated himself. Finishing the last of the toast, Harry said, "Once I leave, are you going to go back to hating me again?" His tone was a little more bitter than he had intended, but at least he didn't yell—or cry.

"You're the one who didn't want anyone to know things had changed," Snape accused. "Too good to be the _evil git's_ friend?"

"Clearly, you don't know much about me," Harry retorted. He hadn't noticed Snape's confirmation that sentiments had changed between them. Nor did he catch the man mention the word "friend"—two things that were completely atypical for Snape and he would never admit to saying. Harry continued, "and when was it I said I didn't want anyone to know?"

"Back at Grimmauld Place," Snape replied. "You said, 'please don't tell anyone about, er… you know.'" The man bitterly mocked Harry's whining tone and then stared at the boy—daring him to deny his words.

"I wasn't talking about our relationship," Harry defended himself. "I just didn't want you to run off to your little Slytherins, to talk about _Famous Harry Potter_, and all his stupid little—"

Snape cut off Harry's ranting, and said, "Clearly, you don't know much about me."

Harry attempted a scowl, but ended up looking like an annoyed little boy about to stick out his tongue.

"Then what did you mean when we were going through the barrier at King's Cross. You said that when we returned to school, you didn't want something. I could only assume you didn't want to have anything to do with me anymore."

"Well perhaps you should have listened," Harry replied angrily. "What I said was, 'I don't want to lose you.' If you had just listened to my whole sentence." Snape sat back in his chair, he looked a little off guard. Harry continued, "I told Ron, Hermione and Ginny—on the train to Hogwarts—that things had changed…that I trusted you. I wasn't embarrassed to let people know."

"That much is obvious after your little fit in class."

Harry turned away as his cheeks blushed. Yesterday, he had made a fool of himself. And he still didn't know how much trouble he was in. No, he didn't want to talk about that… "So the past three weeks, you've treated me like crap," Harry accused "because you thought I was embarrassed by you?"

It was Snape's turn to scowl. "No, of course not." Harry was not convinced, so Snape continued, "Albus did not want us to get too close."

"Meddlesome old man," Harry shouted. "Why would Dumbledore care… I mean, what does it matter to him?"

"Think, Potter," Snape snapped. "What could possibly go wrong if suddenly the Boy-Who-Lived became friends with a spy?"

"Voldemort!" Harry gasped. "He'd—"

"Yes," Snape confirmed, "but don't worry about that now. I've been given instructions to gain your trust."

"Voldemort wants you to gain my trust?" Harry asked. Snape nodded yes. "But why?"

"I cannot tell you everything."

"So, you're only going to be nice to me because your _Lord_ has commanded you."

Snape's scowl turned into a glare, and Harry had the distinct impression that he had crossed the line. "No, Potter, you are just going to have to trust that you don't know everything."

Harry had the grace to look ashamed, although he did believe he would do better with more information than less. He lifted his mug to take another sip of pumpkin juice only to find he had already finished it. _I'm already messing this up_, Harry thought.

Snape changed the subject, talking in a more conversational tone. "Do you have any explanation for receiving five weeks of detention from Professor Quinn?"

Choking first and then laughing, Harry had completely forgotten about that. "I thought it was four weeks," chuckled.

"You think this is funny?"

"Er… no," Harry schooled his behavior.

Harry started shivering—not out of fear—he was getting too cold. With bare feet on the stone floor and only thin pajamas for warmth, the meager fire wasn't enough.

"Why don't you go an take a shower and get dressed," Snape suggested. "We can talk about this later."

"Shower?"

"Yes, I'm sure you've used one before."

"Well, can I at least have some floo powder to return to the Gryffindor Tower?" Harry asked. It would be a bit awkward wandering through the hall, clad only in his pajamas.

"Albus had some of your belongings sent down here. They're in the bathroom."

"The bathroom?" Harry hadn't seen a bathroom before. Surely the man didn't want him to shower in his bathroom… That would just be too weird.

"Yes, the bathroom," Snape held off his sarcastic comment. "… Isn't there a bathroom in your room?"

"You don't know? These are your quarters."

Snape scoffed. "These apartments adjust to the Professor's needs. Albus added a room for you to stay in last night. Now come on, surely there must be a bathroom." Harry followed Snape back to the room he had stayed in the night before. After entering the room, the bathroom door was obvious. "See, your bathroom."

"It wasn't there before," Harry defended himself.

"Right," Snape replied as he left the room.

"Git," Harry said quietly to the closed door. He smiled to himself, realizing that he'd just used the term sarcastically.

Walking over to the bathroom, he felt light—relieved. Surprisingly, he wasn't worried about the trouble he was in. For some reason, he figured everything would work out okay.

The bathroom was nothing grand, a tub/shower, sink, small mirror, and a toilet. It was stocked with the bare essentials, all school issued. On the counter top was a set of his clothes. He briefly wondered who gathered up his belongings until he read the note atop the pile. It read, "Don't forget about quidditch practice, mate. Ron."

_Figures Ron wouldn't forget about Quidditch_, Harry laughed to himself. On the surface, it seemed a bit shallow, but Harry knew it was Ron's way of saying everything would be okay.

Taking a long shower, he spent his time basking in the warmth. Afterwards, he dressed quickly, standing on his tiptoes to lessen his contact with the cold stone floor. _They should really consider getting some rugs_. Then he combed his hair, in an attempt to make it look orderly. But while he was brushing his teeth, the unruly locks stuck out at odd angles, creating his patented "just out of bed" look. Sighing, he slipped on his maroon colored jumper with the large golden H—the first of his Molly Weasley collection. With a mental note to kill Ron next chance he got, he left the bathroom to go and find Snape.

It wasn't hard to find the man. The door right across from him was open, exposing an impressive library. The only thing extravagant about Snape's private quarters was the massive shelves of books. The ceiling in the library extended to about six meters high, the walls completely covered. _Hermione would die_. Snape sat at the far side of the room behind a simple desk. Harry approached quietly and took a seat opposite Snape.

The man didn't look up from his work, so Harry sat there quietly waiting. He noticed an open door behind the man. From what Harry could see, it seemed to be a private lab. Harry leaned as far over in his chair as possible without falling, in order to get a better look at the lab.

"Harry," Snape said so abruptly that the boy nearly fell out of his chair. "What explanation do you have for five weeks of detention?"

_Wow, Snape, straight to the point_… "I wouldn't stand in the corner," Harry replied, somewhat defiantly. He would not back down—he knew Quinn had no right to publicly humiliate him.

"Professor Quinn gave you five weeks of detention and had to send you out of the room, simply because you didn't want to stand where directed."

"No… well sorta, but not like you think."

"By all means, do enlighten me."

"It was a punishment," Harry snapped. "You know, face the corner."

"What?" Snape asked, sounding incredulous.

"I think he has a superiority complex or something," Harry reflected calmly. "He wanted to bring me down. He said I needed to_ learn my place_."

"Why would he do that?"

_Because he's a stupid idiot_, Harry thought. Instead he explained, "Hannah, Susan, and Lavender needed help with the Contego Promoveo Shield. So I showed them how it was done. But I wasn't allowed to do any magic, just sit and watch."

"And what did you do to earn that restriction," Snape prompted.

"I haven't been able to practice magic at all in the class, all term. Quinn said I was too young, regardless of the fact I still have my sixteen-year-old mind."

Snape sat pondering the information for a while. Harry was glad Snape wasn't angry with him. In fact, the man seemed to understand Harry's motives—if not agree with them.

"What did you do in transfiguration to earn a detention," Snape continued.

Harry sighed… maybe he wasn't going to get off so easy. "Um, well, I deserve that one. I got frustrated in class… McGonagall, she warned me about my language, told me I'd get detention if I continued... And I— I sorta said, _good luck in finding the time_." Harry blushed at the last part and no longer maintained eye contact with Snape.

The man didn't have any reaction to Harry statement—no anger—his emotions were unreadable. _Why do I feel so ashamed, so regretful?_ Harry wondered.

"And then you had an outburst in my class," Snape added.

"Yes," Harry replied. He had felt regretful before, but now he felt down right guilty. "About that. I'm really sorry about what I said—for calling you a bastard. I didn't mean it. Er… I'm sorry."

"I may have deserved that," Snape admitted. Harry let out a breath that he hadn't even realized he was holding and then gave the man a weak smile. In response, Snape fixed a deadly glare on his face and spoke, in the manner that made even the most defiant student's quail. "If you ever act so disrespectfully in my class again, you will find yourself skinning newt eyes until you graduate. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied quickly—automatically. The corner of Snape lip turned up, into the tiniest of all smirks. Instantly, Harry's mood relaxed—for a moment.

"Would you happen to know why Draco Malfoy was found left in the hall, in a full body bind?"

"Er…" _say no, say no!_ Something in Snape's eye told him that the man already knew the truth. "Yes, I do," Harry said, feeling a bit crafty. Snape's glare hardened and Harry was forced to elaborate. "I did it… Malfoy was going to say another one of his stupid little insults. I'd had enough—he deserved it…" Harry's resolve was weakening. "He…I… er, I'm sorry."

"Ten points from Gryffindor for attacking another student," Snape replied. "And you will serve one detention with me." Harry felt a little put out, but didn't have the will to complain. Instead, he subconsciously twisted his face into a firm pout. "Anything else you would like to add to yesterday's list of behavior."

"Er… you didn't say anything about my little explosion. I heard glass breaking…" Harry had the stupidity to point out.

"You had a lot of pent-up emotion, finally released in an emotional outburst. It's not uncommon for young wizards to produce accidental magic in those instances," Snape explained. "I trust you will try to control yourself in the future." Harry scowled in response. Snape continued, unfazed, "Now the headmaster has asked to see you at noon." _Oh God, I don't want to think about that_. "It's nearly time to leave." _It's almost noon already?_ "Would you like to speak to the headmaster, or would you rather I go in your stead."

Harry choked, "You can do that?"

"Albus will understand the situation after someone explains what happened."

"I thought I was going to be expelled for sure!" Harry exclaimed.

"Not today, Potter," said Snape in mock disappointment. "Unfortunately, not today." This made Harry smile—his full, carefree and goofy grin. "Now, would you like me to speak with Albus or not?"

"Yes," Harry replied. "Yes, please."

Snape got up to leave. "You may look at the books, but don't touch anything else." The man pointed his wand at his laboratory door. "And do not attempt to enter my lab." The door swung shut with a bang. Harry doubted he could get in, even if he was foolish enough to try.

"Yes, sir," Harry responded. As Snape left the room, Harry felt an overwhelming sense of relief. It felt nice for someone to take care of things for him—to have someone willing to take care of things. He was not alone.

With Snape gone, Harry wandered over to the shelves of books. First, all he did was brush his hands against the many covers—to make sure they were in fact real. Then, he skimmed the titles on the spines. Expecting to see numerous potion manuals, he was pleasantly surprised to find nothing of the sort. This particular row of books contained countless adventure stories. One title caught his eye, "Under the Ice and to the Center of the Earth."

Book in hand, he sat down on the couch and began to read. Two chapters went by before he noticed the time. His stomach was starting to growl and Snape still hadn't returned. He got up, carefully leaving a finger in his book to save the page, and made his way to the dining area.

A small feast was waiting for him—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, a fruit salad, and some bread rolls. Carefully, he set down his book, open to his spot. Then, he sat down and dug in, eating like a ravenous young teen. Half way through his meal, the book called to him. After all, the expedition team had just been cut off from the outside world—and one of the wizards was an evil spy…

Finishing his meal—with his nose in the book—he got up and made his way over to one of the armchairs. Curling up into a more comfortable position, he continued to read.

He was in that position when Snape returned through the floo. Upon seeing the man, Harry's first reaction was to ask, "Is this real? I mean I know it's fictional… But are there really caves underneath Antarctica? Have there been expeditions?"

"What?" Snape asked confused. Harry blushed when he realized he had just ranted on about a story—not even allowing Snape a moment to catch his bearings. _I am such an idiot_. Snape, however, did not seem bothered. Rather, he walked over to Harry, and pushed up the book in order to read the cover. "I see," he said. "No, that story is just fictional. Yes, there are caves under Antarctica. And yes, there have been numerous expeditions in those caves. I have several nonfiction books on the subject, including a couple of transcribed journals."

"Journals from actual explorers?" Harry asked, his excitement back.

"Yes, from _actual_ explorers," Snape replied. "If you would like to read them, you may. But I suggest you finish the book you're already reading first. It's much more exciting than the others."

"Okay," Harry replied, once again returning to his book.

Snape took a seat on the couch and said, "Harry, we need to talk."

Looking up, Harry moaned, "That bad, huh?"

"On the contrary," Snape began. "Professor Quinn's detention has been reduced to one day. The detention will be served for disobeying his orders that you not do magic." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Snape waved him off. "Regardless of how you feel on the matter, he had good intentions. If you had a problem with his decisions, you should have talked to him after class or gone to your head of house."

Harry laughed at the last part, like McGonagall would have done anything.

Snape scowled, but continued, "Professor Quinn has been informed that humiliation is not an appropriate form of discipline and therefore will not be asking you to stand in the corner again. He also has been informed that Defense Against the Dark Arts is imperative for you to learn, so you will no longer be restricted from practicing in class."

For a moment Harry wished he had gone to the meeting, so that he could have seen Quinn get told off by a team of Hogwarts' most firm teachers. On second thought, being in a room with Dumbledore, McGonagall, Quinn, and Snape—all discussing his behavior—no, that didn't seem like a good idea at all.

"Minerva," Snape continued, "has decided to cancel your detention, on the basis you were _under stress_." From his tone, Harry could deduce Snape had a different opinion on the matter.

"Wow, that's unusually nice for McGonagall," Harry remarked.

"It shouldn't surprise you, not being accountable for you actions. You are Gryffindor's _Golden Boy_ after all."

Harry rolled his eyes, but the comment didn't hurt like it normally did. Snape hadn't said it in a hateful manner, more as a tease. The man did have a point. Harry Potter _The-Boy-Who-Lived_ did get away with a lot. Not that Harry ever asked for any of the special treatment.

"Also," Snape continued, "it has become obvious that in your eleven year old body, the course load for a sixth year student is too much. Especially considering your involvement in Quidditch as well."

"I'm not giving up Quidditch," Harry said so quickly he hadn't thought what he was saying before the statement left his mouth.

"I'm not asking you to give up Quidditch," Snape snapped. "Now, listen to what I have to say before you start your whining." Harry glared, but kept his mouth shut. "In light of your difficulties, it has been decided you will not be required to write essays, for the time being. Instead, you will arrive to class ten minutes early, to be quizzed orally on the material."

"Really?" Harry smiled. _Wait till I tell Ron!_

"Yes, but it does not mean you don't have to study hard and learn all the important concepts," Snape lectured. "And remember, you will have to know it well enough to answer questions in detail. Is that understood?"

"Yes," Harry replied. He was still excited about the prospect of skipping the essays, but he was beginning to feel a bit concerned about the questions. Some of the things Snape asked in class… _ugh, this might not be so good_.

"Do you have anymore questions?" Snape asked.

"Er… no, not that I can think of."

"Good, now I have work to do," Snape replied. _Here it comes, time for me to go_, Harry thought. "So you may go… or you can stay and read if you would like." Harry nodded vigorously to respond. "Just as long as you're not loud or annoying," Snape added.

Harry followed Snape into his library. The boy headed to the couch, book in hand, while the man returned to his desk. They sat in silence; the only sound was the scrape of Snape's quill and the occasional gasps of surprise from Harry.

In no time at all, the hour for dinner arrived. Harry only put the book down after strict instructions not to read at the table. It may have been out of his hand, but not out of his mind. Harry described the book's plot thus far, as well as his opinions on the characters and his predictions for the future. Snape, paying half attention, nodded in response.

Towards the end of the meal, Harry remembered Quidditch. "I have practice tonight," Harry reflected. He felt a bit disappointed that he had to leave, not that he could stay in Snape's quarters forever anyway.

"Do try not to injure yourself," Snape replied.

"Well, I should go," Harry said, getting up from the table.

"I have one more thing I wish to discuss." Snape paused, to think for a moment and then continued. "Despite the fact we are on better terms, you will still treat me with respect. I don't care if you call me Snape in private. But in class it is _Professor_ Snape."

"Oh, yes sir, of course," Harry promised.

"And you will arrive to class on time," Snape added.

Now Harry realized what else he had done to make Snape think he didn't value the relationship forged over the summer. In his first class with Snape, he had barged in late, not showing the public respect Snape demanded… but he had been excited about—_wow, I've completely forgotten about that, the wandless magic_.

"It wasn't my fault," Harry started. "Malfoy, he, well that doesn't matter." Harry was no snitch. "Anyway, I couldn't reach my wand. I wasn't about to leave it in the hall. So I _accioed_ it—wandless. I think I can do it all the time." Quickly he glanced around the room for an object. Deciding on his book at the coffee table, he held out his hand in its direction. _Accio book_, Harry thought. Instantly, the book flew into his hand. He turned to Snape, smiling.

"Put it back," Snape commanded.

Harry blushed; he had forgotten Snape's statement, "No books at the table." "Er… I'm sorry, sir," Harry apologized and got up to return the book.

"No, sit," Snape ordered. "I mean wandless, try to put it back."

"Oh, okay," Harry replied. He put the book back down on the table. How to put it back, he pondered. Ah, _Wingardium Leviosa_. He stared at the book chanting in his head the command, even emphasizing the correct syllables. For a moment, the book quivered, but getting excited, Harry lost his concentration. Trying again, he managed to make the book move up a bit, but as soon as it lost contact with the table it went crashing to the floor. Harry looked up at Snape and shrugged.

"Perhaps with practice," Snape considered, "you may be able to do more. We will work on it, along with Occlumency." Harry nodded; he was actually looking forward to his lessons with Snape. "But don't tell your friends about it," Snape added, "at least for the time being."

"Okay," Harry replied. "I really must get going, though. Ron will go crazy if I'm really late to practice." Harry got up, retrieved the book (Snape said he could borrow it) and made his way over to the door. Opening it up, he realized it led into Snape's office. He hadn't remembered a door in there before.

"It's a secret door," Snape replied, knowing what Harry must be thinking. "If you come to my office and knock, an alarm goes off in my apartments to alert me. So I am always available. Most students don't know about my quarters, of course. And—"

"I won't tell anyone about it," Harry said before Snape could ask. "Thanks for everything." Snape didn't respond.

Just as Harry was stepping out the door, Snape called to him. "And Harry, I want you to remember. You can come to me, anytime you need my help."

Harry nodded in response and stepped out into the empty dungeon. Many people in the past had said he could "come for help." But with Snape it felt right—it felt true.

Author's Note:

Ten points to anyone who can spot the AYLNO reference.

Coming Soon:

Chapter 15: Just Harry


	15. Just Harry

Author's note:

Since it's been so long since I updated, I thought I would include a little summary of events thus far. I find when a story takes a while between updates; I lose track of what's happening in the story and need to go back to look things up… Skip this if you don't want/need to read it:

Harry is at the Dursleys (locked in the cupboard), when Voldemort sends werewolves to attack. He's rescued by Snape and Hagrid, who take him to Grimmauld Place. There, Harry discovers a secret attic, with an old trunk. He finds a pendant, puts it on… the pendant is a dark artifact that exaggerates his emotions. So his hatred for Snape increases, while his need to get Sirius back also intensifies. Crazed, Harry attacks Snape, and runs off to the Department of Mysteries. There, he accidentally de-ages himself to a baby, while retaining his 16-year-old mind. Snape brings him back to Grimmauld Place. At first, Molly Weasley takes care of him, but circumstances (all too conveniently) force Snape to care for the child. Over time, Snape begins to change his "feelings" towards Harry as does Harry towards Snape, (especially after the night where Harry relives the death of his parents). During his baby stage, Harry discovers he can do a bit of wandless magic (_accio_). Snape figures out a potion to fix Harry's age, but must do it in stages… So first he's aged to five. He and Snape go shopping in Diagon Alley and visit the Dursleys. They discover Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley to be in a trance-like state… Also during age five, Harry has a nightmare about evil eyes staring at him (a werewolf) and Snape helps him occlude. Later, Harry is aged to eleven and the school term begins. Conveniently, the next potion to age Harry cannot be made until this extremely rare plant can be found and be raised to the proper stage in its life cycle. Snape and Harry's relationship returns to what it once was pre-summer… Harry has lots of bad dreams, gets depressed, and sickly. Finally, he has a bit of a break down and earns a ton of detentions. That night, Harry dreams of the werewolves again (we find out later that Voldemort is using his connection to Harry's mind to direct the werewolves.) Snape helps Harry occlude again. The next day, they discuss stuff and "make up." Harry spends the day at Snape's and then has to go to Quidditch practice…

Chapter 15

Just Harry

xxxxx

Harry made his way down to the Quidditch Pitch. The sun was setting below the horizon and the air was becoming chilled. Holding his arms around his body for warmth, Harry muttered to himself about Ron's practice schedule. The dusky to dark light was a very difficult condition in which to spot the snitch. And although the pitch could be lit up with some simple charms, strange shadows would stretch across the field. At least it wasn't raining… yet.

In the locker room, Harry pulled on his warm Quidditch robes and made his way out to the team. Ron was in the middle of his pre-practice speech. "We need to be prepared to play under all sorts of conditions. Who knows when a game can continue until nightfall? So everyone stop your whinging and mount your brooms. Three on three—"

The boy was cut off when Harry lightly smacked him upside the head. The redhead turned, glaring daggers, but then quickly smiled after seeing Harry. Ron wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulder and then easily trapped the small boy's head. Tousling the already disheveled hair, Ron said, "'Bout time you showed up." Releasing Harry, he continued, "Where have you been? Is everything all right?" Without waiting for Harry's response, he turned back to the others on the team. "Run drills three through seven," he ordered. They complied, leaving Harry and Ron alone. Quickly, Ron turned back to Harry and continued talking. "After you didn't show up for lunch, Hermione and I got really worried. We tried to talk to McGonagall, but she was busy. And then we went to Snape's office, but no one answered. So we went to Dumbledore—"

Harry waved his hand, effectively cutting off Ron's discourse. "Whoa there mate. Will you let me tell you what happened?" Harry waited for Ron to nod his head yes and then continued. He explained to Ron how Snape helped expel Voldemort from his head and about how the misunderstanding between the two—along with Dumbledore's meddling—had caused the last month's hostility from the potions master. "And Professor Snape said he could maintain his new friendship with me, despite his spy duties because Voldemort has ordered him to gain my trust."

Ron twitched at the mention of the evil wizard's name, but regained his composure under Harry's annoyed gaze. "So…" Ron paused, as if about to say the name, but instead said, "You Know Who… he, he wants Snape to gain your trust?"

"Yeah," Harry replied sheepishly. Suddenly the implications started to settle in… _What could Voldemort possibly accomplish if Snape had my trust?_

"You don't suppose Snape is trying to be nice to you just because of—"

Ron didn't have the chance to finish his statements. Harry was busy glaring daggers at the poor boy until Ron had the brains to shut his mouth.

"Well… this can't be good, in any case," Ron added nervously.

"No," Harry agreed. "No, this can't be good. I'm sure good ol' Tom is thinking up a wonderful evil plot—that both Snape and Dumbledore know—involving my painful death. But of course I'm not privy to that kind of information."

Ron shook his head in anger and opened his mouth a couple of times as if to respond. After a moment he spoke in a neutral tone, changing the subject, "So you spent the whole day with Snape… in the dungeons?"

"Yeah," Harry replied.

"The whole day, with that greasy…" Ron trailed off. Shifting from foot to foot, he added, "What did you do?"

"Oh, I don't know, read books… laid around. Did you know he went to the meeting with Dumbledore for me?"

"No, I forgot about that… you're not—you know—"

"I'm not going to be expelled, if that's what you mean," Harry answered. "They even reduced my detentions with Quinn to one day and told him that public humiliation wasn't allowed."

"One day!" Ron exclaimed. "Well, that's brilliant… not that you deserve any detentions at all, but yeah, one day is much better than five weeks. Especially since all you did was use magic."

"Oh, about using magic. Snape said that I'm going to be allowed to practice magic in class."

"That's great! Imagine that strict bastard being told off by Dumbledore—absolutely brilliant."

"Yeah, I'm glad that I didn't have to go. Being alone in the office with Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall," Harry shuddered, as did Ron. "I almost feel sorry for Quinn… almost." They both laughed for a while, and the Harry added, "Guess what? I don't have to write essays anymore either."

"What!" Ron choked.

"Because of my eleven year old body," Harry explained. "Apparently, I'm having trouble managing the stress." The last line he added sarcastically, although he completely agreed—but he didn't want Ron to think he was weak.

"How would that help?" Ron asked.

"Just think about it. How much time do we spend writing out the essays? Even when we know the material, we still have to spend time organizing our thoughts. Not to mention worrying about spelling, grammar, penmanship…"

"I get all that, but how would you learn the material?"

"Well _Hermione_," –Ron's cheeks reddened— "I still have to study. The professors will quiz me before each class."

"Wow, I can't believe they're all going to do that for you."

Suddenly Harry remembered Snape's "Golden Boy" comment and felt awkward. Surely the teachers would make sacrifices for other students as well… if they were in the same situation. But he was beginning to feel a bit more skeptical.

It seemed as though Ron was thinking along the same lines. Harry thought he caught a familiar glint of jealousy in Ron's eyes. But the boy looked away before Harry could be sure. So they both stood there uncomfortably for a moment, unsure what else to say.

Thankfully, they were rescued from that situation when a quaffle was chucked at Ron's head.

"Hey!" Ron shouted, looking up into the mischievous eyes of his sister. "What was that for?"

"We've run the drills twice now," Ginny replied. "Unless you've got some other plans for practice, we're all going to retire." Ginny stared back at him, arms on her hips in the most striking "Molly Weasley" pose. The rest of the team was behind her, with looks of impatience and annoyance.

"Fine, fine," Ron grumbled. "Three on three Quidditch. Practice ends when Harry catches the snitch." Ron mounted his broom, still holding the quaffle. He continued his orders from the air, "Harry, you release the balls."

Harry went to do as he was told, contemplating letting the bludgers go first so that he could just follow the snitch and catch it right away.

From above him, he heard Ron shout, "snitch first and then the bludgers."

Grumbling to himself, Harry released the snitch and then turned back to the other balls. Ducking out of the way in case they decided to come after him, he released the bludgers as well. They both flew upwards toward the other players and the game began.

Harry mounted his broom and quickly ascended to his spot high above the others. He began his usual circular pattern, eyes like a hawk, searching out the snitch. Although his duties were basically the same as in a regular quidditch match, the adrenaline and excitement were not there. Instead, the flying had a rather calming effect, and Harry found himself thinking back to earlier in the day.

The relief he felt over Snape's attitude lifted a huge burden off of his shoulders. _Were they friends now?_ Harry couldn't quite quantify their relationship. In the end, he realized it didn't really matter.

A flash of gold quickly brought him out of his musings. After a spectacular twist, he dove straight for the snitch. His smaller body allowed for smoother flying. The broom responded better to his touch and his lighter weight was easier to propel to greater speeds. All that—added to the fact that his mind knew a lot more flying techniques—made Harry much better than he ever had been before. It had only taken a couple of practices to get his body trained and ever since, Harry had been dubbed the "secret weapon." Too bad their first match was against Hufflepuff…

Catching the snitch, Harry landed on the ground. Close behind him was the rest of team, all of whom were cheering—glad to be done with practice.

xxxxx

The next day, the trio made their way down to breakfast. It was late in the morning and they managed to make it just in time… well almost. Hermione and Harry had enough time to finish before the plates cleared away. Ron, however, had a fork load of eggs that disappeared half way to his mouth.

"Bloody hell," Ron cursed. Hermione gave him a rather harsh glare before they all got up to leave.

They left the Great Hall and parted ways. Hermione and Ron headed up to the library, whereas Harry headed to the defense classroom.

"See you in a while, mate," Ron called.

"In a long while," Harry groaned. "Oh, and don't bother stopping by to check on me. _Please_."

"Well, if you don't—" Hermione started to say. But she was unable to finish as Ron yanked her around the corner.

Quinn hadn't wasted time scheduling Harry's detention. The note had arrived at almost the exact moment as he sat down to eat. _At least it's not at seven in the morning_, Harry sighed. He walked slowly, in order to postpone the inevitable. Reaching the door he paused… it was two minutes early after all. Watching the second hand tick its way around the face of his watch, Harry knocked thirty seconds early.

"Enter," the voice within commanded.

Slowly, Harry made his way to the desk, feeling slightly nervous as he approached the overly strict man. But he knew Quinn didn't hold the same amount of power as teachers like Snape or McGonagall—at least not anymore. After Friday's "event," his menacing image had deflated considerably. The man had lost control of his anger and his composure, a fact easily recognized by students… and now… now he would be eaten alive by the teenage population. Even worse for the man, was the fact that his detentions had been overridden by the higher ups. Harry hadn't been forced to obey and in the end his punishment was decreased to only one. _Actually, it's likely they saved this one detention to allow Quinn to retain a little bit of authority_, Harry silently laughed.

Halfway to the desk, Harry recomposed his expression into a smirk. At that moment, his appearances would have confirmed Snape's former opinion of him as the "arrogant Boy Who Lived." A part of Harry felt guilty, protesting his smug mood. But in the end, he reasoned, this was all a matter of pride. Quinn attempted to squash him like a bug, and Harry stood up for himself… it was a simple as that. And now, it was the man's turn to try again… and Harry would not be quelled.

He stood in front of Quinn's desk while the man graded papers. _Perfect, he wants to make me wait_, Harry thought. After shifting his weight a couple of times, Harry wouldn't wait any longer. "So, your note said 10:30," Harry pointed out. "It's now 10:35. If you would like me to return later…"

Quinn stood up quickly, almost knocking over the chair. _The man's already angry_, Harry mused as the corner of his lip turned up ever so slightly.

"Boy, you will address me with respect." Quinn commanded a bit on edge. "You will sit at the desk, with your head down."

Harry considered it for a moment before calmly replying, "No."

"Then, I will extend your detention," Quinn spat, his cheeks growing red.

"You can extend it if you want," Harry snidely replied. "Although, both you and I know where this is leading. It was my understanding that you were told humiliation was not an acceptable punishment." Outside, Harry was calm, but he knew he was crossing a line… no way would he be allowed to talk so smugly with a teacher. If Dumbledore found out… or Snape.

Scrabbling noisily in his desk, Quinn pulled out a ruler… more precisely a meter-long stick. He rounded the desk so quickly; Harry had little time to react. Quinn was upon him now, looming over the small boy.

"Hold out your hand," Quinn commanded.

"N-no." Harry's voice wavered a bit, more out of confusion than fear.

His protest was futile, though, and seconds later Quinn had a strong grasp on his wrist. They boy tried to pull himself away, but ended up being forced to sit in the nearby chair. His position was odd enough that he was unable to maneuver away.

With his ruler hand, Quinn pulled up Harry's robe to expose the boy's pale forearm. Shortly thereafter, he swung the stick down on the bare skin. A loud snap resonated throughout the room. The blow was painful, but mostly Harry just felt disbelief.

Swing after swing, the ruler came down on his arm, creating large angry welts. Harry was not unaccustomed to pain. His eyes became red and watery—but he wouldn't allow a tear to drop. Biting his lip, he fought down any involuntary gasp.

Quinn paused to smirk, and then continued. In that moment, Harry realized the man was sick… there had to be something wrong with him.

The man stopped his attack and commanded, "Apologize for your behavior."

Harry glared at the man. He doubted his glare looked anything other than pathetic, but it still had the desired effect. Quinn's face twisted in frustration and continued his assault.

"If you apologize," Quinn prompted, "I will discontinue this punishment." The man held the ruler menacingly above the marred skin. Harry kept his mouth held shut. "No?" Another slap.

Harry closed his eyes tightly. _I will just apologize… the words will mean nothing._ Swallowing hard, Harry pushed his pride away. _We'll see who's sorry… Once I go to Dumbledore, or even better—Snape!_ Opening his eyes again, Harry spoke through a clenched jaw, "I'm sorry."

The boy half expected the man to say "Pardon" or some other such nonsense. So he was surprised when he felt another painful sting.

"I'm sorry, _sir_," Quinn corrected.

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry repeated, sounding more bored than anything. His tone did not go unnoticed by the professor. The man grew steadily angrier than before… it was almost amusing.

"You are just a little boy!" Quinn yelled. "You will remember your place in the classroom. I am the teacher and you are the child." There was a gleam in his eyes when he said the next phrase, "Mr. Potter, say, 'I'll remember my place.'"

Looking away, Harry settled in for the long haul. There was no way he would ever say that.

Before a blow could fall, though, a light tapping at the door interrupted them. Suddenly, Harry wondered if the man had remembered to ward it. From the panicked look on Quinn's face, he highly doubted it.

"Do not move," Quinn warned, waving the ruler in a threatening manner. He then stalked over to the door.

Meanwhile, Harry pulled down his sleeve and held his arm close to his body.

"Excuse me, sir," a polite and familiar voice spoke. "I don't mean to intrude, but you mentioned that I could borrow your book on expandable wards."

Professor Quinn hesitated before responding. Harry had the distinct impression the man had glanced in his direction. So far, Harry hadn't moved...yet.

"Yes, of course," Quinn politely responded. "Please come in, Mr. Malfoy."

_Ha, so I was right, it is Malfoy_, Harry congratulated himself. He watched the loathsome professor walk casually up to his desk—still carting the damned stick—followed closely by his nemesis. Much to Harry's surprise, the blond Slytherin never looked over at him.

Harry didn't waste time pondering the matter. With Quinn distracted, Harry got up quickly and sprinted out the door. The boy wasn't stupid enough to think that the professor hadn't seen his escape. On the contrary, he hoped the man had. Harry knew he was faster, and he could run away. Let the man lumber after him, shouting all the while for him to "Be good." Maybe if he was lucky, Quinn would follow him all they way down to Snape's lair.

Halfway to the dungeons, Harry suddenly diverted to the nearest bathroom. Thankfully, the room was empty. Making his way over to the sinks, he looked in the mirror. His eyes were still a bit red, but not obviously so. He then poked at his arm—bruises were already forming.

Returning his sleeve to its proper place, Harry left the bathroom composed. As he made his way down to Snape's office, he contemplated a number of ways to tell the man exactly what had happened. In each version, he tried to brush off the embarrassing fact that he was completely helpless. By the time he reached Snape's door, he was unsure if he should say anything at all. _I'm sixteen years old!_ Harry scolded himself. _I should have been able to do something._ He was about to turn away from the door, reconsidering his decision to tell Snape, but before he could, it opened.

"Back so soon," Snape drawled sarcastically.

Stuck, Harry stuttered, "I er…" He didn't know what to say, he just couldn't tell him. Snape was right; it was just a couple of nights ago that he had come crying to the man for help. He had to toughen up, be a man—he could take care of Quinn on his own. Meanwhile, Snape watched him, impatiently waiting for him to say something. Quickly, Harry blurted out; "Can I read the journals?"

"Pardon?" Snape asked.

"You know, for the explorers… Antarctica," Harry elaborated. "You said you had travel journals from some actual explorers."

"Ah, yes, I remember," Snape replied, stepping aside to allow Harry's entrance. The man then led Harry into his private quarters—Harry was still surprised to be there—and into the library.

After retrieving the book, Snape sat down behind his desk and Harry relaxed on the couch. Harry "read" the book, in a manner of speaking. But the words went through his head with absolutely no meaning.

Instead, he reconsidered telling Snape what Quinn had done. After all, only yesterday the man had said he could come to him for help. So now the only problem was how to bring it up. Harry was unaccustomed to asking for help and he still felt embarrassed over how weak he was. But he wanted Snape to know, he trusted the man.

"So," Harry said, breaking the silence. "I had detention with Quinn today."

"Hhhmm," was Snape's only response.

_Er.. right. What to say next?_ Harry thought. _Yeah it was horrible… the man whipped my arm with a ruler… No I can't say that. _ "I was just wondering when I would have detention with you?" Harry asked quickly.

"Next Thursday at seven," Snape replied, without looking up from his work.

"Why is that?" Harry asked, "It's almost a week away."

"Would you like me to make it sooner?" Snape drawled sarcastically, in an all too familiar tone. Harry cringed as he mentally kicked himself for being annoying. After a sigh, Snape continued, "You have quite a busy schedule."

Harry kept his mouth shut for a while longer, trying to force himself to concentrate on the book in his hand. All too frequently, he would find himself speaking again. The topics usually lingered awfully close to things like defense, detentions, and various professors. He wished the Snape would pick up on that fact and ask him about his detention with Quinn. He even hoped that the man would guess out right what had happened.

Snape never did. His responses were very limited, only a few "hhmm"s interspersed here and there. Harry knew it was unlikely the man was even listening, but he rambled on none the less.

By now, Harry was lying stretched out on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The book sat forgotten on the floor beside him. "Most of the defense teachers have tried to kill and/or hurt me at some point," he blurted out and then added, "well except for Lupin."

Snape snorted.

Harry ignored him and continued to talk. "I don't understand why everyone is after me… Er, I understand the whole Voldemort thing and all. But I mean… it just doesn't fit, you know." Harry doubted Snape had any idea what he was talking about; in fact, he didn't know what he was really trying to say in the first place. So he started from the beginning.

"I was a normal boy… not horrible in school—not great either… Well, I suppose I wasn't normal, my relatives called me a freak. And er… that's not important," Harry's cheeks were red in embarrassment. He quickly glanced over to check if Snape noticed, but the man was still scribbling away with his quill.

"Anyway," Harry continued, "my point is, I was nothing special. I didn't even know I was a wizard until Hagrid showed up and told me so. Even then, I didn't believe him, I mean I was Harry, just Harry…" He waited for some kind of response from Snape. "Don't you understand?" he asked. "All this _Boy Who Lived_ nonsense… it was my mother's sacrifice killed him. I mean, every _amazing _thing I've done has been the result of other's help, or 'sheer dumb luck' as McGonagall put it." _And I'm supposed to kill the most powerful evil wizard…_ Harry thought. "Eventually this luck is going to run out. And in the end, I'm still just 'Harry'."

"Well 'Just Harry'," Snape said. Harry sat up with a start. The man was now standing next to the couch; Harry hadn't even noticed him get up from the desk. "I have some brewing to do," Snape continued. "Why don't you be a normal boy and go play?" The man's usual sarcastic tone was lightened, making the last phrase sound a bit like a tease. "After all, it's almost lunch. I wouldn't want your friends to think I've started chopping you up."

A short good bye later, Harry found himself in the hall outside Snape's office. He stood there confused for a moment, and then scolded himself for not telling Snape what Quinn had done. Deciding to try again later he left to go find his friends.

xxxxx

On his way to the tower, Harry ran into Hermione and Ron. They were both dressed oddly in swimming gear. Slung over his right shoulder, Ron was carrying a large heavy bag.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione waved. Harry waved back, his usual smile returning to his face.

"Hey, Harry," Ron greeted. "So, Quinn let you go? Did he make you stand in the corner again?"

"No," Harry blushed and then changed the subject. "So, what are you two up to? Going for a dip in the lake? It's October!"

"Hagrid's asked me to feed the Grindylows." Ron explained as they continued walking to the grounds. "Of course, there is enough vegetation and such to sustain the population. But Hagrid likes to feed them twice yearly to make sure they get the proper vitamins."

"Is Hagrid going to help?" Harry asked. "I mean, you do know they're not friendly?"

"I can handle it," Ron said, sounding a bit offended. "And Hermione is coming to help, too. Would you like to come?"

"Er… I," Harry hesitated, memories of the second task flashing in his mind.

"You can stay in the boat if you want," Ron added. Hermione nodded her head in encouragement.

"Well, sure, I'll come," Harry decided. They continued along in silence for a while until Harry asked, "How are you going to stay underwater?"

Hermione laughed, "Remember all that research we did? And in the end it was so simple."

"Yeah, Gillyweed," Harry reflected. "So, is that what you're going to use?"

"Hagrid gave me some," Ron confirmed. "Although I don't think I have enough for all three of us."

"Oh, that's fine," Harry replied. "As I recall, you said I could stay in the boat." He really didn't want to go swimming in the lake again.

In no time at all, Harry was sitting in a boat in the middle of the lake as his two best friends disappeared below the water's surface. He fought the urge to jump in after them and to drag them back towards the air. For a while, he stared at the ripples that were left behind from his friends' departure, but once those faded away he decided to settle in.

Maneuvering around in the boat, he managed to find a way to lay on his back and stare up at the sky. It was gray and overcast, threatening to rain. Harry started to wonder why he decided to come with Hermione and Ron in the first place… it was rather pointless to be sitting on the boat in the middle of the lake with nothing to do. In fact, he remembered that he had done nothing all weekend and there was a lot of work that he needed to finish. He smiled to himself when he realized he no longer had to write essays, at least for the time being. Despite the cold air, Harry was filled with warmth… Snape had talked to Dumbledore, McGonagall and Quinn—all on his behalf. _Was this what it was like to have a father?_

Harry contemplated all the things Snape might do to Quinn, after he told the man about what happened in the detention—_if_ he could manage to tell the man that is.

So far, Harry had spent his whole life having to take care of things on his own. He never told anyone exactly how bad life was like at the Dursleys. They out-right neglected him, locked him in a room or cupboard for days without food. He remembered detentions last year with Umbridge, the quill…and he never really told anyone about that either. He always had to take care of things on his own—the Sorcerer's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, the Triwizard Tournament… the list could go on. Yes, he did have a lot of help from his friends, but what would life have been like if he had something more? Like a mum and dad… perhaps his mother would have come and made sure he was pulled out of the Triwizard Tournament. What if his father had come to see him play in a Quidditch match?

And on Harry's thoughts continued, contemplating how his life would have been different if his parents had lived, or if someone had adopted him. In his boat, he hadn't noticed that it had started to rain. Deep in his thoughts, he was completely oblivious to the fact that a shield of warmth radiated around him protecting him from the weather. With the soft rock of the boat, Harry drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

_For his eleventh birthday he got to go to the zoo with his friends—Ron and Hermione—and he got to pick out whatever ice cream he wanted from the stand. And he got to spend as much time as he wanted to look at the different animals. No one shuddered when he discovered he could talk to the snake. In fact, his dad was proud, clapping him on the back of the shoulder… no one mentioned that the only other parsaltongue was Voldemort, in fact no one mentioned the evil wizard at all. It was just the five of them, on a warm, perfect summer day. His mum made sure that he wasn't thirsty, hungry, or needed to use the loo. Meanwhile, his dad slipped him a twenty-pound note, saying he could buy whatever he wanted from the gift shop. Ron, Hermione, and he were all about to go on a camel ride when he felt something ice-cold splashing on his face._

He bolted upright, only to be met with two giggling friends.

"Sorry, mate," Ron laughed. "I couldn't help myself. You just looked so dry and comfortable."

Harry glared as he tried to shake off the extra water.

Hermione attempted a straight face and then gave Ron a half hearted "tsk tsk," until they both erupted into more laughs. Harry had half a mind to push them back overboard, but it didn't seem to matter much since they were both wet already. After about three minutes of his friends' inability to regain composure, Harry relented and started laughing as well.

"The look on your face," Ron snorted. "Brilliant."

Hermione, the first to calm down, pulled out her wand and cast drying spells on herself and the two boys.

"Just you wait," Harry threatened. "I know where you sleep, Ron. And I will be getting you back."

"Oh, no," Ron gasped in mock terror. "Please forgive me, Harry."

"We should be getting back," Hermione said seriously. "It's almost dinner."

"Oh, I know," Harry laughed. "Hermione, we can hold Ron out here… as prisoner. No cake for you tonight."

Ron's face grew a bit more serious and looked pleadingly at Hermione.

"Yes, that sounds like a good idea," Hermione teased.

"Not funny," Ron muttered.

At this, Hermione and Harry broke down into fits of laughter, while Ron pulled out a paddle and attempted to single-handedly bring them to the shore. Calming down, both Hermione and Harry picked up a paddle and helped as well.

In no time, they reached the shore. Ron got out and pulled the boat closer. Like a gentleman, he helped Hermione get out of the boat. He left Harry to fend for himself. At the perfect moment, he sent a tripping hex that managed to land Harry face down in the mud.

Wasting no time at all, Harry got back on his feet and lunged after his friend. With his smaller body, he almost had no effect on his much larger friend.

Ron started laughing hysterically at Harry's pitiful attempts to knock him over. But this was the redhead's undoing—caught off-guard, he found himself falling backwards into the mud. Quickly, he flailed out and grabbed his attacker by the ankle. And with a splat, Harry too was laying in the mud.

"Boys, boys," Hermione chided. "Boys, calm down, we're going to be late for dinner."

Neither boy could even hear Hermione, much less acquiesce to her request. If anything, both their laughing increased as Harry flung a handful of mud in Ron's face.

"Hey there Weasleby, Scarhead," a cold voice called out. Instantly, Harry and Ron stopped laughing. They stood quickly in order to face their common enemy. Malfoy continued his taunts, "trying to make the Mudblood feel more at home are you?"

Ron got up quickly, his fists balled, "shut up you—"

"Ron stop," Hermione commanded, standing in the boy's way. "Just let it go. Malfoy's not worth our time."

"Weasley, you act more like a whipped dog," Draco laughed. "Listening to orders from a Mudblood. I suppose that's all I could expect from a member of the Weasley family." Ron's face grew red, his hand itching to pull out his wand, but with Hermione's hand on his shoulder, he was able to keep his calm. Draco continued, "blood traitors the lot of them." With no response, Draco turned to Harry, "Nothing to say Potter? Oh that's right, I'd be ashamed too if my own mother were filthy mudblood scum."

Harry didn't have the chance to respond before Hermione rushed forward. A loud crack sounded when her fist made contact with the boy's nose. Without another word, Draco turned and ran in the most uncouth manner towards the castle.

Left behind, his two bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle, raised their fists, ready to retaliate. Hermione took an involuntary step backwards—two huge boys against one girl was not good odds. But she wasn't alone. As the cronies took note of Harry and Ron—both with their wands ready—they too turned and ran.

"Great shot, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed.

"Er…" Hermione didn't seem too pleased with herself. She flexed her hand and then winced in pain.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

She examined her fingers and noticed that the knuckles were red, "I'll be fine."

"I can walk you to the infirmary," Ron suggested.

"Not with Malfoy still there," Hermione replied. Both Harry and Ron nodded. "We need to get going. We're late for dinner already and we can't go like this." The boys took the chance to examine themselves. Hermione was still dressed in swimming gear, as was Ron. Worse then that was the fact both boys were completely covered in mud.

"Er, right," Harry responded.

As they started their way back to the castle, it began raining even harder than before and they all started to shiver from the cold.

"You know, Malfoy has been really weird lately," Harry mentioned.

"Yeah, the gits been even gitter," Ron said.

"No, that's not what I mean. Why was he even out here in the first place… in the rain?"

"I dunno, to come and insult us?" Ron suggested.

"I doubt that. He's too good for the rain."

"Harry's right," Hermione confirmed. "Malfoy wouldn't be out here in the rain unless he had to be. And I doubt he considered insulting me on his list of priorities."

They continued to discuss Malfoy's odd behavior for the rest of the trek back to the castle. Oddly enough, Harry felt a bit nostalgic—discussion of possible Malfoy conspiracies had always been a popular topic amongst the trio. Entering the castle, Harry was content to note that his only worry at the moment was Filch. The man would be livid if he caught them tracking in mud. In the back of his mind, he casually wondered what his parents' reactions would be… his Dad's snickering overshadowed by his Mum with her arms crossed…

Author's Note:

Much to discuss… first off, I'm sorry it's been so long since I've last updated. Life's been busy (organic chemistry is the devil) and so on… enough of that. Secondly, the hidden AYLNO reference was "he did believe he would do better with more information than less." So ten points to all those who found it… And then I don't know how much, or when I've mentioned this. I have two wonderful betas; Sunsethill and Nefla—and my story wouldn't be what it is without their help. I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter… much more to come (hopefully sooner than later).

Coming Soon:

Chapter 16: title unknown (so far… so, I'm sorry, no clues for you)


	16. Owls, Plants and Professors

Chapter 16

Owls, Plants, and Professors

xxxxx

Sunday night, most students were busy finishing their assignments that were due the next morning. Harry read a few chapters for his upcoming classes and Hermione spent some time quizzing him on the material. She had to stop, though, in order to spend time fine-tuning her Ancient Runes essay. Ron was still out, working on some task for Hagrid. With nothing to do since he was no longer required to write essays, Harry found himself extremely bored. Looking around the Common Room, the only other students not busy with homework were a few yawning first and second years. Despite his younger body, Harry still hadn't stooped so low as to hang out with the younger years.

Sighing, Harry said to Hermione, "I guess I'll go to bed."

"Night, Harry," she casually replied without looking up from her work.

Slowly, Harry dragged himself off the chair and shuffled up to his empty dormitory. _This is exactly what they wanted_, Harry mused—referring to Snape, Dumbledore and McGonagall—_they all want me to go to bed nice and early… to get plenty of rest. I'm not tired_, Harry thought mid-yawn..._If only I wasn't trapped in the body of a stupid little kid! I hope that blasted potion doesn't take **too** much longer._He decided to ask Neville how the Alesco Plant was growing next chance he got.

The boy was in his pajamas and half way into bed before a hooting noise interrupted him.

"Shhh, you'll be okay," Ron soothed as he entered the room.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, walking over to his friend. The boy blushed, looking a bit embarrassed to be talking sweetly to an owl.

Harry ignored his friend and focused on the rather sickly looking bird sitting on Ron's shoulder. He recognized it to be one of the school's Tawny Owls. Usually, an owl's eyes would be large and alert, but at the moment they were quite droopy. It's feathers stuck up, making it look rather puffed. The poor thing looked absolutely miserable as it clung tightly to the fabric of Ron's robes.

Ron was having trouble moving, carting a heavy iron stand and an awkward bag of supplies. After dumping the bag on his bed, Ron set down the stand, managing to squash his foot in the process.

"Bloody hell," Ron cursed, as he hopped around on one foot. The bird on his shoulder began flapping its wings in order to remain balanced. Giving up on the clumsy boy, it flew over to the stand and gave an irritated screech as a reprimand.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, Ron nursed his throbbing toes. "Some owls are sick," Ron explained. "Hagrid has two with him and asked me to look after this one." Reaching over for the bag, he started pulling out several random objects. "Oh, and he sent you some rock cakes." He limped over to Harry's bed and put down a small, brown package on it.

"Is the bird going to be okay?" Harry asked, his voice full of concern. He reached out to scratch the poor bird's neck. In response, the little Tawny let out a quiet, pitiful hoot.

"Who? Hagrid?" Ron joked.

Harry glared, he really didn't think now was the time for joking; he was quite worried about the owl. "You know what I mean," he said annoyed.

"Yeah, yeah, the owl," Ron said, waving his hands in defeat. "I think it'll be fine." On the edge of the perch, Ron started securing a water bowl. He had to turn it around several times, trying to figure out the proper way to fasten it. Before Harry could butt in to help, the boy had managed on his own. All the while, Ron continued talking. "We're trying to separate this guy from the other owls, for obvious reasons." Harry went over to the still-fluffed Tawny, who was now shaking a bit as if it felt too cold. Ron returned to his bag and started opening all the pockets, looking for one last item. "And I need to give it a potion every two hours, so it's better to have him near by so I don't have to go hiking all over the castle tonight. Ah ha." In the last pocket, Ron found a small, brown glass bottle.

Harry took the vial from Ron and examined it closely. "Is this something you can buy in the store?" he asked. He wondered if he should have his own bottle on hand, just in case Hedwig ever needed it.

"No," Ron answered. "Snape made it. It's kind of like a mild version of the Pepperup Potion." Harry nodded to show that he understood and then turned back to the owl. He softly ran his fingers down the bird's back, silently glad that his Hedwig wasn't suffering. "Hey, guess what?" Ron continued. "I get to join your potions class on Friday. Hagrid's arranged it. You guys are going to learn how to brew the regular Pepperup, so I get to sit in and learn the modified potion. I'm kind of excited, like the good old days… Well, except for the greasy bast—er… Snape." Ron looked nervous, like he expected a negative reaction from Harry.

But the boy was too distracted to take note of Ron's slip up. Instead, he asked, "Is Hedwig going to get sick, too?"

"Oh, I doubt it," Ron replied, visibly relaxing. "I mean that's what Hagrid said when I asked. He told me that lots of the birds get sick in the Owlery. Well, usually not three at once, but he's figuring some of the food might have gone a bit off or something." Harry tensed and Ron quickly tried to calm him, "Don't start panicking or anything. Hagrid has changed out all of the feed and checked all the other birds, so there's nothing to worry about."

Staring at the sick bird, who now had his eyes closed, Harry couldn't stop the involuntary shudder. How could he not worry? He didn't know what he would do if something happened to Hedwig.

An arm wrapped around Harry's neck and pulled him away from the bird into a headlock. "Ah, come on mate, don't worry," Ron comforted as he messed up the smaller boy's hair. Harry was beginning to realize just how annoying this new habit of Ron's was. Frustrated, he tried shoving Ron away. Oblivious to Harry's feelings, Ron continued in his compassionate voice, "Hedwig is fine. Why don't you go to bed? You can see her in the morning." He released Harry and pushed him gently towards his bed.

"I don't need to go to bed!" Harry shouted.

"Fine, don't go to bed," Ron retorted. "Obviously, you have loads of plans," he added sarcastically, pinching the collar of Harry's pajama top.

Harry folded his arms, and probably looked like a complete idiot. Ron only laughed at him. After a minute or two, Harry joined in on the laugh.

"Oh, mummy," Harry joked. "Please don't make me go to bed."

Ron's face pinked. "I am not being motherly!"

"Fine then," Harry relented, only to add, "Hermione."

"Why you," Ron threatened. Harry jumped away and easily avoided the still limping Ron. "I'll get you later," he gave up, returning to the owl that still needed to be fed.

Harry climbed into bed, fighting a strong urge to rush straight to the Owlery to check on Hedwig. Turning on his side, he watched Ron struggling to feed the very stubborn bird.

The night was fairly restless for Harry; nightmares of an ailing Hedwig interrupted only occasionally by a dying Sirius. Somewhere near the morning, Harry was able to relax when it seemed as though the Tawny Owl was recovering.

"See, I told you it would be okay," Ron muttered as he nursed a nipped finger. Indeed, the bird must have been feeling much better. It was no longer puffed and shivering. Now the Tawny wanted to be left alone to sleep—hence Ron's bitten finger.

xxxxx

Monday morning, after checking on Hedwig, the only thing left for Harry to dread was his first class. He had thus far managed to avoid Quinn and the man hadn't attempted to retaliate…yet. Harry contemplated skipping class, but he didn't want Quinn to think that he was scared. No, Harry would face the man, and be a polite young student… offering Quinn all the respect he "deserved."

So, he entered the classroom, alongside his friends, and made his way to his assigned seat in the front of the room. He sat quietly, numbly aware of the chatter going on around him. The room's silence was the only indication that Quinn had entered the room. Harry was staring so intently at a knot in the wood of his desk that he could not see the man.

"Miss Abbott," Quinn called.

"Here, sir," she replied. And so class began exactly how it always had. Harry was still surprised that the man didn't simply glance around the classroom and note an empty desk. Instead, the man wasted nearly five minutes, meticulously calling out each student's name and waiting for the specific response.

"Mr. Potter," Quinn called in the same manner as every other student. This surprised Harry, as he half expected to hear some sort of rage, or maybe even disgust.

"Here, sir," Harry replied quickly.

And so the roll call continued. Harry relaxed considerably. Apparently, Quinn was going to act as if nothing odd had happened between the two of them, which suited Harry just fine.

"Take out your books and open to chapter four," Quinn commanded. "Begin reading the chapter on your own, as I will be unable to lecture today."

The class stared at the man, confused for a moment. Quinn's classes always followed a basic pattern. A week of lectures followed by a week of practical work. They had never been asked to read in class before. He expected that to be done on the students' own time. But the students didn't stare for too long; quickly they pulled out their books to do as they were told.

"Mr. Potter," Harry cringed when he heard Quinn's voice. "Come forward. Bring your wand."

Slowly, Harry obeyed. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see the other students watching him.

"It has been insisted that you be given the opportunity to practice magic in class time," Quinn lectured. "Since my request for you to be moved to a more suitable class has been rejected, I am forced to disrupt my lecture and give you personal instructions. I would ask you to apologize to the other students, but it is obvious that you are not required to obey your Professors." Quinn paused to loom over Harry in a threatening manner, waiting for the boy to respond. Harry knew he had to watch his mouth carefully. Any slip up and he would find himself in detention again. "So, let's see if you are as good at defense as you think you are."

Quinn shot a stinging hex at Harry without any warning and so the boy had little time to react. It hit him squarely on the shoulder and the pain shot all the way to his toes. Another hex was sent at him before the shock from the first wore off. Harry was in full defense mode now—without thinking, he blocked the next hex. Quinn sent hex after hex in rapid succession, each a bit more powerful than the last. Harry was feeling a bit proud of himself; he was doing reasonably well defending a full-on attack from his professor. But he was getting tired—damn his eleven-year-old body.

Quinn sent a strong blasting curse at Harry. It was too much for the boy's shields and ended up pushing him backward into the stone wall. Angry, and with a sore back, Harry was ready to attack now. Forget defending himself! He had every right to fight back.

Before Harry could shout his curse, the bell rang… most likely saving him from a lot of trouble. Not waiting to be excused, Harry ran over to his desk, scooped up all of his belongings and dashed out of the classroom alongside the other students.

Outside in the hall, Ron spoke first, "You really got him mad, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Harry replied sheepishly, not giving the boy any more details.

"I would suggest you go and talk to a professor about Quinn's behavior," Hermione nearly shouted, "but I don't think it would do any good."

"Huh?" Harry shrugged.

"Nothing," Hermione replied, as she rushed forward through the crowd of students.

Try as he might, with his smaller body, Harry was unable to pass by the much larger students to catch up with his friend. So he turned to Ron instead and asked, "What was she so mad about?"

Ron shrugged, but Harry had the distinct impression that the redhead was withholding something.

xxxxx

Despite sharing a dorm with the boy, the first time Harry had a chance to talk to Neville was during Herbology. When Professor Sprout had asked for volunteers to help with a "special task", Neville was the first to raise his hand. Reluctantly, Harry volunteered as well, on the off-chance they'd have time to discuss the Alesco Plant.

They were assigned to turn the compost, a task that Harry assumed would be fairly easy. He soon found out that he was very wrong. Entering the compost house, pitchfork in hand, Harry was instantly dodging a burst of flames.

"Watch out for the fireweeds," Neville warned. _A bit late_, Harry thought as he rubbed the dirt off his robes.

The usually timid boy was in his element, Harry noticed. With strong, smooth strokes, Neville dug into the pile and stirred the decaying leaves, roots and stems. The not-so-dead plants launched their own attack, shooting an array of fire, thorns, or toxic-smelling pollen dust. All the while, Harry was making his own clumsy attempt to help. He was oblivious to the fact that a vine had wrapped around his ankles, until it tried to pull him into the pile. Thankfully, Neville was able to rescue him before he was pulled too far in.

Unearthing some of the deeper bits of plant, Harry discovered a new array of strange looking worms and bugs. At that moment, he vowed never to volunteer for anything in Herbology again.

"That should be enough," Neville announced. Harry didn't need any more incentive—he was out of the compost house so fast he nearly tripped on his way out.

Walking over to the water house, they washed off their hands—Harry his face, as well.

"So, Neville," Harry spoke up. "Do you know how the Alesco Plants are doing?"

Neville was known to be down in the greenhouses during a lot of his free time. He even had his own little section to work on his personal cultivation projects. So it wasn't too odd for Neville to be involved with the care of the delicate Alesco Plant.

"Not too well," Neville replied. "We've been having a problem transplanting the seedlings, but we'll figure it out. You asking because of your potion?"

"Yeah," Harry sighed. He was beginning to wonder if he was going to be stuck this way.

Neville continued to explain, "It's progressing as we thought. The seedlings have grown to full size. The problem is, they don't want to leave their mum."

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"Why don't I just show you," Neville decided. He led the way past a few of the greenhouses to Professor Sprout's private one. Casually entering, he walked past the small office space and to the rows of plants. Here, Harry saw the most eclectic collection of plants; he had no idea there were so many different species.

Set apart from the others, Neville showed him the Alesco Plant. It had large, broad leaves of a bright red color. Each leaf had four or five small seedlings growing right out of the plant. Some of the small plants sat looking brave—for a plant—in their own little pots.

"We've tried planting the seedlings in a number of different soils," Neville explained, "but every morning we come to check on them, they've all moved back onto the mother plant. It may just be that they're not ready to be on their own yet or maybe we haven't found the right soil mixture."

Harry poked at the nearest seedling. The mother plant pulled away a bit, bringing its leaves into a tighter configuration in a protective manner.

"And we can't use the seedlings until they've been planted on their own," Harry stated.

"Yeah," Neville confirmed. "The potion needs a developed taproot."

"Great," Harry sighed.

xxxxx

The next day, the defense class started out exactly as it had the day before. The students were all given a reading assignment and Harry was called to the front. Seconds later, Quinn started his brutal attack right where he left off. Harry fended off most of the curses admirably, but again he got tired and frustrated. Despite the fact he was aware Quinn was provoking him, Harry still got fed up and raised his wand to attack.

"Stop!" Hermione shouted, and Harry lowered his wand. Professor Quinn turned and glared at the girl. Hermione overlooked it and continued, "Please, stop Professor. You can't do this. It's not right."

"You were told to read your book, Miss Granger," Quinn snapped back. "Were those instructions too confusing to you? I understand you've been having trouble following the simplest of guidelines, but surely even you can comprehend how to read a book." Hermione's cheeks turned bright red with embarrassment as she quietly buried her head behind the book. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for your outburst," Quinn continued, "and a detention for your insolence."

The man turned to smirk at Harry—pleased with himself—waiting for the boy to protest. Harry was busy contemplating the best way to respond—there was no way he would allow Hermione to go to detention. Before he could open his mouth, the bell rang and the students all rushed out of the classroom. Not wanting to be alone with the man, he glared, gathered up his stuff quickly and ran out to find his friends.

Hermione was half glaring and half in tears. More than anything, she looked to be fuming. Ever so slightly, she leaned towards Ron.

"He's a horrible teacher," Ron bit out.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry asked when he caught up with them. Sure, Quinn had been a git to her, but she never really looked so angry and Harry didn't understand.

Ron shook his head and motioned with his hand to shoo Harry away. "I can handle it," Ron mouthed without letting out a sound.

Harry nodded his reply and backed off. He followed them from a few steps behind. Ron had his arm draped over Hermione's shoulder and appeared to say nothing. For the first time, Harry felt a bit nervous about his friends' relationship… since when was Harry asked to stay out of it? He wondered if it had something to do with his new eleven-year-old status. Regardless of the fact he still had his sixteen-year-old mind, a lot of people still treated him like he was younger. So far, Hermione and Ron hadn't. Maybe something more was going on? Harry angrily shook his head, effectively cutting off that train of thought. Instead, he muttered to himself about how Ron obviously couldn't "handle it." The redhead never had been one of the suave, comforting types—the boy hadn't even so much as opened his mouth yet.

Feeling a bit put out; Harry entered his next class. He took the empty seat next to Neville, when Hermione sat next to Ron. He was unable to concentrate much on the lesson and kept glancing over at his friends. The Professor took notice and asked Harry to stay behind after class. When he was finally released, he made his way down to the Great Hall for lunch.

He sat down next to Hermione. Leaning over, he whispered into her ear, "You can't go to the detention, Hermione." When she finally turned to acknowledge his statement, he continued, "We need to tell someone what happened."

"Why?" Hermione responded, still angry for some reason. Harry looked around the Gryffindor Table; he didn't want to talk about it here.

"Later, some place private?" Harry whispered. She nodded and turned back to her lunch.

Harry tried to eat, shoving forkfuls of food into his mouth to pass the time. When Ron got up, Harry immediately followed suit and they both stood waiting patiently for a reluctant Hermione. Leaving the Great Hall, they made their way to the nearest abandoned classroom.

Harry was the first to speak, "What's going on? Why are you suddenly not interested in going to a Professor about Quinn's unfair treatment?"

Away from prying eyes, Hermione spoke as if the dam had been broken. The words spilled quickly from her tongue, "I went to talk to McGonagall, about Quinn's unfair treatment towards muggleborns. You see, I noticed that I—and other muggleborns as well—always have the worst marks. Plus during classes, Quinn never comes to help Justin and I. But Professor McGonagall was really busy, I don't even know if she was really listening to me,"—Ron scowled—"She sort of brushed me off, she said she would 'look into it'."

"So that's why you've been so angry lately," Harry stated.

Hermione blushed, "Yeah, I guess. I was really mad after I first talked to her… because I thought…"

"That she didn't believe you," Harry finished for her.

"Yeah, but I've been thinking about it," Hermione continued. "And well, I was wrong. It's not that McGonagall doesn't believe me. For some reason I think she might already know… or have suspicions at least."

"And she's doing nothing!" Ron shouted. "She's so stupid."

"No, Ron. I think something is up," Hermione replied urgently. She was staring off across the room, as if assessing the situation from all angles. "It must be something more important than a teacher being unfair."

"Like what!" Ron yelled back.

"Like a war, Ronald Weasley," Hermione chided. The boy looked away and blushed.

"You need to listen to me, Hermione," Harry interrupted in an eager tone. "You can't go to detention. And we need to go back to McGonagall, or Dumbledore or even Snape."

"Why?" Hermione and Ron asked at the same time.

"You have to promise to keep it to yourselves,"—both his friends scowled at this—"I mean no other students, Dumbledore and McGonagall are okay. And I will tell Snape, next chance I get. Tonight in fact, because I have my er… _private_ lessons with him." Harry didn't want to say Remedial Potions and he couldn't say Occlumency—no one had warded the door…

"Well, what happened?" Ron demanded.

"I don't want the whole school to know," Harry pleaded and then he rolled up his sleeve.

Hermione gasped.

"Bloody hell," Ron cursed. "Quinn did that to you?"

"Yes," Harry said in a hushed voice. Pulling his sleeve back into place, he added, "Now you understand why you can't go to detention."

Hermione nodded and then said, "It's scheduled for tonight at 8pm."

"Then I'll just have to tell Snape after Potions," Harry decided.

"Right," Hermione replied, "And I'll go to Professor McGonagall again. Ron you're coming with me." Ron nodded. "But you should go to Madame Pomfrey about the bruising Harry."

"No, I'll be okay," Harry responded. "I'm sure Snape will have a Bruise Paste. Besides, some other students might see what happened…"

"You had better have Snape take care of it," she warned.

"What if McGonagall is busy again?" Ron asked. "And no offense, but I don't quite trust Snape to help us either. What do we do then? Dumbledore is still out… Should we just start knocking on different Professors' doors?"

"We should probably keep this amongst Order Members," Hermione resolved.

"Why?" Ron asked.

"Quinn's targeting Muggleborns and Harry," she pointed out.

"Death eater," Ron muttered under his breath.

"Perhaps," Hermione replied. "I've done some research on him, though, and I didn't really think it fits. He used to teach at a small, all-boys school in Africa. It was only for rich European Purebloods who lived in the area, but as far as I could tell there weren't any connections to You-Know-Who." They were all silent for a while, until Hermione finally spoke again, "We should get to class. Afterwards, we'll go to McGonagall."

Filled with determination, Ron headed off to Care of Magical Creatures whilst Hermione and Harry went down to Potions.

Class time went normally enough. Harry was too worried over how to talk to Snape, that he hardly noticed the lack of insults from the man. Someone—likely Seamus—had muttered something about hell freezing over, but Harry barely registered the comment. He hadn't even realized it was near the end of class and somehow he had managed a passable potion.

Before the bell could ring, he heard a stifled gasp—sounding more like a cough then anything. His eyes shot up immediately to Snape, expecting the man to be clutching his left arm. Snape wasn't, but he had made eye contact with the Potion's Master—and Harry knew he was right, it was Voldemort's calling.

"Class dismissed," Snape ordered in his most strict tone. No one needed to hear the "Now get out." Despite being left unspoken, it was generally understood. Even Harry didn't dare linger, despite wanting to run up and cling to the man—in order to beg him not to go.

In the hallway, he heard someone ask, "Neville, what did you do?"

Ignoring the other's comments, he rushed over to Hermione. The girl looked mad at Harry, ready to give him a long lecture. However, Harry didn't give her a chance, he stepped right in front of the girl and she stopped. Swallowing his pride, he motioned for her to lean down so he could speak quietly into her ear.

"It's Voldemort," Harry whispered. "He's calling."

Hermione swiftly stood back up. Harry could tell she was itching to ask him how he knew, but she wisely watched her tongue.

"Well, then you're coming with us to talk to Professor McGonagall," Hermione decided.

"Okay," Harry answered. He really had rather talk to Snape, or no one at all. But at the moment, Hermione had a determined glint in her eye that he knew better than to go against.

They walked silently through the corridors, passing by other students as they made their way to talk to their head of house.

Hermione knocked on the door to McGonagall's office as the other two boys stood nervously behind her.

After a few moments, a flushed McGonagall opened the door.

"We need to talk," Hermione said plainly. The girl looked ready to push her way into the office, if that was necessary.

"Now is not a good time," McGonagall replied calmly.

Hermione looked ready to retort, but a voice spoke up from the inside. "Please, Madam, I don't have all day." The girl leaned at an odd angle to get a glance at the rooms contents. Harry and Ron followed suit.

"Er, right," Hermione said. "But first chance you get…"

Professor McGonagall gave a short nod and Hermione pushed the boys down the hall.

"What just happened Hermione?" Ron asked.

"There are ministry people in there," Hermione replied. "I don't know who, but they all looked political."

"Great!" Ron shouted sarcastically.

"So, I guess I'll be going to detention," Hermione commented.

"Well, I'll still go to my lessons," Harry decided, "and if Snape comes, I'll tell him what happened. And I bet he'll swoop in so fast…" _Assuming Snape is okay_, Harry worried.

Ron nodded and then said, "And I'll make sure you're not in there alone. Not one second."

Hermione smiled at her two protective friends. "I should get started on my homework," she decided. "I doubt I'll have time later."

xxxxx

At nine o'clock that night, Harry still sat leaning against Snape's office door. Thus far, he hadn't felt any pain from his scar and figured that was a good sign. Although, on second thought, he hadn't really been having the same number of visions as he had before the Department of Mysteries incident. And he was not naïve to the fact Voldemort loved using the Cruciatus Curse. He was about to give up, when the door opened from within and Harry fell backwards into the office.

"Snape," Harry breathed in relief.

"Yes," Snape snapped. "However, I must cancel tonight's lesson." As Harry stood up, the man started to close the door.

Quickly, Harry put out a foot to stop it. "Are you okay, sir?"

"Yes, now let me go," Snape said, but his physical condition suggested otherwise. His limbs twitched involuntarily, an obvious aftereffect of the cruciatus.

"Did he—"

Snape cut him off, "It's none of your concern."

"You should go to Madame Pomfrey," Harry replied.

"I have dealt with this before," Snape growled. The man was obviously losing his patience.

"Let me help you," Harry pleaded.

"No!" Snape shouted and pushed Harry back into the hall. The door then slammed shut, with an audible bang.

Harry cursed and then tried to open the door. It was locked shut, and _Alohomora_ had no effect. Finally deciding to return to the tower, Harry was half way up before he remembered he was going to tell Snape about his arm. At the moment, though, his arm really didn't seem that bad in comparison to Snape's condition.

He was still worried about Hermione's detention, though, and decided to head towards the defense classroom even though it was nearly past curfew. Just down the hall from the room, Harry was met by a strange sight—Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean holding their defense textbooks open to various pages.

"Okay, I'll ask him that," Dean said. "Although I don't think he likes me much."

"Doesn't matter," Ron replied. "We just want to keep an eye on Hermione, that's all."

Harry held his breath; he really hoped Ron hadn't told everyone about what Quinn had done.

"But why?" Seamus asked, "What are you afraid Quinn will do? He's not some kind of pervert is he?"

"I don't know," Ron stated. "He just acts weird. I don't trust him."

The others nodded.

"Who's in there now?" Harry asked, as the group of boys jumped out of shock.

"Ginny and Colin," Ron answered.

"Colin!" Harry was surprised. "But he's muggleborn, too."

"Well, Ginny wasn't going in there alone either."

"What's her punishment been?"

"Just lines"

"Don't you think he'll get suspicious?" Neville asked. "With all of these Gryffindors asking a bunch of questions?"

"Probably," Harry laughed. Suddenly, he wanted his turn to go in as well. Then Quinn would know exactly why everyone was asking questions. He didn't get the chance, though, as Hermione stormed by with Ginny in her wake.

"Hey, Hermione," Ron shouted. "Wait up."

The rest of the students all followed after her. It wasn't until they reached the Fat Lady that Hermione stopped, and then it was only so she could say the password. A combined glare from the pack of them sent the others off to bed. Only Dennis remained, so Colin was forced to take the boy to bed himself.

"What did he make you write?" Ron asked, once the Common Room was relatively empty. She didn't respond, but handed the prompt over. Ron read it, "I will remember my place."

"Is that all?" Seamus asked.

Hermione glared at him. "Well I doubt he is daft enough to assign, 'I am a dirty mudblood'. But I got the meaning well enough. I'm sorry guys, but please excuse me, right now I just want to go to bed. Tomorrow we'll try McGonagall again." She walked off quickly, followed by Ginny.

Only the five sixth year boys remained in the Common Room.

"That's what he wanted me to say, too," Harry said, breaking the silence. "I think he has some sort of superiority complex or something."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "I've been hearing stories from some of the younger years."

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"Well, like how he's been making students stand in the corner, like he tried to do to you."

"I saw a couple Hufflepuffs crying when they left his classroom the other day," Seamus said. "I tried to ask them what happened, but they wouldn't tell me. They were muggleborns, I think… Do you guys think he's going after them on purpose?"

"Maybe he's a d-death eater," Neville said quietly.

"Wouldn't be the first time Dumbledore has had one on staff!" Ron shouted.

Harry glared at the boy, but realized that he probably wasn't talking about Snape—or rather, just Snape.

"And I can't believe what he's been doing to you in class, Harry," Seamus added.

"Attacking a student!" Dean exclaimed.

"We should all go to McGonagall tomorrow," Neville suggested.

"Yeah," said Ron. "I bet Hermione would like that."

"In the meantime, maybe we should do something on our own," Seamus said mischievously.

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"How many of you have stuff from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?"

They all rushed up to their dorm, Neville a bit hesitantly. Searching through their trunks, they discovered that all together they had quite a bit of stuff. The most useful items were Ron's Portable Swamp, Dean's collection of Wildfire Wizbangs, and Seamus' stock of Dungbombs.

Supplies in hand, the group made their way quietly down to the defense classroom. They were as sneaky as possible, hiding in nooks and ducking behind suits of armor. Seamus and Harry would go first; checking to make sure everything was all clear. There was a rather tense moment when Professor McGonagall, along with a couple of ministry officials, passed by. Each boy held his breath and attempted to blend in with the shadows. Thankfully, the group was distracted and didn't even notice the hiding boys.

They were almost to the classroom, when the smallest creature in the castle made them stop dead in their tracks. An odd squeaking noise escaped from Dean just as Seamus muttered, "We're doomed." Mrs. Norris proceeded to slink over to them, no doubt calling her master, and everyone was at a loss at what to do.

Suddenly, Neville reacted. Pulling a random object from his pocket, he chucked it at the cat. The tiny white lump hit its target squarely and no one could do anything but stare. Expecting the cat to hiss and the caretaker to jump out and attack, they were all surprised when the cat leaned over and sniffed the object. A moment later, the cat attacked, greedily snatching up the white thing and disappearing around the corner. The boys all continued to stand still, not quite believing the cat was gone… surely they couldn't have escaped Filch's wrath.

"What was that?" Harry finally whispered.

"An Ice Mice," Neville mummered quietly.

"That was brilliant," Seamus remarked, clapping his hand down on Neville's shoulder. Startled, the boy jumped—all the color had drained from his face.

"We sh-should k-keep going," Neville stammered.

"Filch might still show," Ron reminded them.

They didn't need any more incentive, and quickly found themselves in the relative safety of the defense classroom.

"So, what should we do first?" Seamus asked, fingering a Dungbomb in his pocket.

"I think we should rearrange the desks," Harry suggested. "Quinn likes everything to be in a particular order."

"We should stick it all to the ceiling," Dean suggested.

Ron laughed, "That's a great idea, but it would probably take to long."

"Oh, I know!" Harry shouted a bit louder than he intended. Still excited, he continued in quieter voice, "We should stack all the desks up into a pyramid pattern."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, "And we can stick the chairs to the ceiling."

"You just have to have something stuck to the ceiling," Seamus teased. Dean shrugged.

They all got a wicked grin on their faces and got to work. Ron and Seamus spent time stacking up the desks while Dean and Harry spelled the chairs to the ceiling. Meanwhile, Neville kept reminding them not to damage anything… No need to get expelled.

After the room was all set up, Harry took a Dungbomb and put it in a very special drawer of Quinn's desk. Ron and Dean were busy figuring out how to deploy the Portable Swamp, whilst Neville checked the hallway yet again to make sure it was empty. A loud snap interrupted their relative silence as the room filled with a bright green light.

"Seamus!" Ron shouted, "We decided to do the Wizbangs last. Someone might have heard that!"

"Well, if not," Seamus retorted, "I'm sure they could hear you bellowing."

"Shh," Harry hissed. "I think I hear something."

They all became silent; at first they heard nothing… But then there were distinct grumbling sounds coming from a door that lead to Quinn's office.

"Run!" Seamus yelled. Quickly all the boys did exactly that. In the hallway, they heard a voice shouting from the classroom.

"Stop this instant," Quinn commanded, but no one listened.

Rounding the corner, they could hear Quinn following from behind. Without stopping, Ron shouted to the others, "We should split up. We stand a better chance of getting away if we do."

Not bothering to respond, the group of boys all scattered.

Running as fast as he could, Harry had the distinct impression he was the one Quinn followed. Deciding to take the long way back to the towers, he descended the stairs two floors to a dungeon level. He was planning on going up the main stairs, passing right though the main entrance hall and back to Gryffindor Tower.

Taking one last glance over his shoulder, Harry rounded the corner. In that instant, all of his plans changed. He ran straight into a man and fell backwards onto his butt.

Harry looked up and gasped, "Snape!"

Author's Note:

So I'm wondering what you are all thinking about my story thus far… I didn't get very many reviews last chapter and I find it a bit discouraging. Although, to my great excitement, my story has become a featured story on Potions and Snitches… so it seems the story is liked well enough. I did get comments asking why Snape didn't pick up on the fact that something was wrong with Harry. In response I will say the man was a bit distracted… but you'll find out about that soon enough. Thanks for reading my story and please leave a review.

Coming Soon:

Chapter 17: Back to the Dursley's


	17. Back to the Dursley's

Chapter 17

Back to the Dursley's

xxxxx

"Mr. Potter," Snape said in a casual sneer. His voice lacked the familiar malice that Harry was normally privy to. Instead, his voice contained a more fatherly scold—Potion's Master style.

This made Harry inwardly cringe; the all too frequent feeling of guilt crept back into him. If Snape found out what Harry had just done… Pranking Quinn's office after curfew was exactly the thing Snape had expected Harry to do—before the boy had finally managed to show Snape otherwise. But now, after executing an almost Marauder-like prank, Harry found himself begging fate **not** to let Snape find out. Despite the fact Harry had just cause—his arm carrying many bruises as evidence—he could not see Snape condoning his behavior.

It was in this mindset that Harry gathered himself off the floor. "I needed to talk to you, sir," Harry lied weakly. But then he remembered. He needn't have felt so guilty… it was a half-truth after all. Harry really had been trying to talk to the man earlier that day—he had to tell him about his arm. _Perhaps Snape will overlook my weak voice as embarrasment rather than an obvious lie, _Harry thought.

"In the middle of the night?" Snape snidely asked. _Or not…_

Harry shrugged, "Er… you said I could come to you whenever I needed to talk."

Snape's face visibly relaxed… it appeared much friendlier—for Snape. No sneer, no anger… just a calm blankness. Snape looked directly in Harry's eyes. In that moment Harry realized he had Snape's complete attention—he was going to listen.

The boy swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat… where to begin. "Er…" Harry hesitated. How should he tell Snape what had happened? Perhaps he could just lift up his sleeve…

Before Harry could continue, the sound of footsteps interrupted them. Snape pushed Harry protectively behind his body and withdrew his wand.

Gracelessly, Quinn lumbered around the corner, holding out his wand. He was panting and out of breath. Seeing Snape, Quinn controlled his stride and straightened his robes.

His anger, however, was not in control. "That boy," Quinn shouted, pointing his wand at Harry, "has just wrecked my classroom!"

Harry stepped out from behind Snape; he would not cower behind anyone.

"Is that true?" Snape asked neutrally, neither accusing the boy nor defending him.

At first, Harry felt put out. He thought Snape should defend him. He then realized it wasn't _really_ Snape's place. There was no real reason why the man should defend him. Worse of all, in this instance, Harry didn't deserve a defense. He was guilty. Well, he was sure that he didn't wreck anything—it was just a prank.

Meeting Snape, eye for eye, Harry said, "It was nothing more than a prank. I merely rearranged some furniture."

Harry was unprepared for the flash of emotions in Snape's eyes—disappointment, anger, and then the worst of all, betrayal. And in the next moment it was all gone, Snape's regular stoic mask was back in place.

"Just rearranging furniture?" Quinn spat. "Then why did I have sparks flying about my classroom? Any of which could have ignited a fire!"

_The Wizbang_, Harry realized. Although he knew they were safe from starting a fire, he wasn't about to present any more information.

"Nothing to say?" Snape sneered in his usual manner this time.

Harry felt his breath catch. It was like the wind was knocked out of him. He did have a lot to say… about his arm…about Quinn. But in that moment, he couldn't bring himself to open his mouth. He was sure Snape hated him again.

"You will clean up my classroom," Quinn ordered, "and restore order. Then we will discuss your punishment."

Quinn stepped aside, waiting for Harry to start walking. The boy took a step, all the while staring at Snape, willing the man to intervene. He wanted nothing more than to tell Snape about his arm. He knew Snape would protect him, whether they were on good terms or not—the man was a teacher after all. But for pride's sake, he didn't want to do it in front of Quinn—he didn't want the git to know he was a wimp… seeking out help.

Mentally kicking himself, Harry couldn't help from asking Snape, "Shouldn't you come?" It was an odd question, but considering the situation, Harry was in a lot of trouble. Snape was a head of house, a long established member of the faculty…

"I can't see why this is any of my business," Snape replied casually. "but, of course, you will need to speak with your head of house." Snape said the last sentence more to Quinn than to Harry. In response, Quinn nodded.

Snape turned, robes billowing dramatically as he stalked down the corridor. Harry watched the man's retreating form with disbelief. He wished things had gone differently… and now he didn't know what to do. He figured he should feel sad; it seemed quite obvious he had just lost Snape's trust, and probably friendship too. But all he felt was angry. _Snape should know something is up! _Harry thought. He wanted to shout, to rage at the man to open his bloody eyes.

The only words that left Harry's mouth were, "She's busy!" He wondered if Snape would realize he was talking about McGonagall. A part of him wanted the man to know that he was going to be alone with Quinn, there would be no going to Professor McGonagall to discuss the "punishment."

Snape didn't stop or even pause to acknowledge whether or not he had heard Harry's comment. The man disappeared around the corner and Harry felt hope drain away.

A rough hand reached out and grabbed Harry by the back of the neck. Quinn continued to forcibly guide Harry towards the defense classroom. It was a silent trip and Harry didn't put up much of a fuss, being deep in thought about what had just occurred. He hated what happened; pranking Quinn's office was probably one of the most awful things he could have done to make Snape angry. Yet the worst part was probably that he lied to the man, saying he had been looking to talk. He remembered Snape's first reaction, giving his full attention to Harry. And after Quinn showed up…Snape looked betrayed.

_He thinks I was using him!_ Harry gasped. It wasn't until he reached the door that Harry realized he was an idiot for not showing Snape the bruises on his arm. _Bloody hell!_ Harry cursed to himself. _I should have opened my bloody mouth! And now I'm walking into this classroom for another punishment… am I stupid? _Knocking himself out of his funk, Harry twisted out of Quinn's grasp and flailed out an arm to push the man away. With his other arm, Harry pulled out his wand. He may have a weak body, but his magic was strong.

"_Expelliarmus_," Quinn shouted before Harry could put up any sort of defense. The wand went flying through the air, landing further down the corridor.

Harry didn't pause; he balled a fist and took a swing. His hand didn't make contact with its target. Instead, Quinn had grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm backwards until the shoulder burned in pain. From this point on, Harry fought back with a lot more restraint. It was difficult to thrash and kick, when each movement was met with a sharp twitch to his arm. This was how Harry was led into the defense classroom, and he wasn't released until he was tossed to the floor.

"You will learn your place," Quinn shouted as he walked over to his desk.

"After you," Harry replied sarcastically, carefully masking any of his fear. He got off the floor and fled to the classroom's door. Twisting the handle he found that it was warded shut…his wand was still out in the hall.

Turning back to Quinn, Harry quickly assessed the situation. Normally, the scene would have been quite hilarious. In the middle of the room was the pyramid of desks and above them, stuck to the ceiling, was a collection of chairs. There was really no evidence of the Weasley's products, as the Wizbang had long since run its course.

The only item that remained had now been discovered as Quinn retrieved his ruler. The man's nose turned up in disgust; Harry could only imagine the smell. For a moment, Harry wished that the dungbomb might have some toxic properties… or maybe Quinn could be allergic. But when the man looked up, eyes glaring through the cloud of green smoke, Harry knew he would not be so lucky.

"Come, Mr. Potter," Quinn called calmly.

Harry shivered. "Like I would," he shouted across the room.

Quinn advanced towards him at a slow calculated pace. Harry contemplated trying to avoid the man, running around the room like a trapped animal. In the end, he recognized, Quinn would probably use magic to restrain him. So Harry would not run, he would use his Gryffindor bravery to fight back as much as he could. He doubted the man would kill him, just beat him up a bit… he could handle it.

_Too bad the chairs are on the ceiling,_ Harry thought. _They might have made good weapons._

"Turn around, Mr. Potter," Quinn commanded.

"My arm too small of a target?" Harry shot back.

Suddenly, Quinn shot forward, grabbed Harry by the front of his robes and tried to forcibly turn the boy. Having none of it, Harry fought back and ended up falling to the floor, smacking his head into the stone wall.

Feeling dizzy and disoriented, Harry barely understood Quinn's command to stand. He was already of a mind to get to his feet, but when Quinn wanted it, Harry decided to crawl away. The motion made him nauseous, and he wasn't too sure if he really could have stood. He didn't get far before the ruler first made contact with his back. The force had knocked him to his belly, and the sharp, sudden pain was almost enough to make him cry out.

Harry lay there, cursing himself for being an idiot. He should have told Snape!

Two feet stepped into his line of sight. "Stand up, Mr. Potter," Quinn ordered again.

"Oh, go to hell," Harry replied, punching the man's shin with as much strength as he could muster. He braced himself for the inevitable blow.

Looking up when it didn't come, Harry wondered why the man was just holding the ruler over his head. _Was he trying to be threatening?_ Glancing at Quinn's face, Harry noticed the man wasn't sneering, rather he was startled. Harry was about to check himself out, wondering if there might be something scary or strange about him. Before he could look down, Harry noticed the hand that was holding Quinn's arm back. Second's later, the man pulled Quinn's arm down. As the defense teacher's body shifted, Harry could see the attacker behind him—_Snape!_

The Potion's Master twisted Quinn's arm around his back into an odd angle. The recently silent room was filled with the man's scream as his arm snapped and the ruler clattered to the floor. A minute later, the room was silent again after Snape's fist made contact with the Quinn's head.

Numbly, Harry watched as the defense teacher fell limply to the floor. Staring at the body, he wondered if the man was now in fact dead. He didn't notice Snape kneeling beside him until he felt the pressure of the man's index finger on his bruised forehead.

"Ow!" Harry gasped, pulling his head away from Snape's hand.

"What happened?" Snape asked through a clenched jaw. He was obviously containing a lot of his anger. Despite his mood, Snape was quite gentle as he helped Harry sit up.

"He wanted me to turn around," Harry explained. "So he could beat me, but I fought back. And then he threw me towards the wall. That's how I hit my head." Taking Harry's chin in his hand, Snape turned the boy's head in order to get a better look at the injury. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, Harry continued, "He hit me with his ruler, too, once on the back." He really hoped that he didn't sound like a tattling little child, but he wanted Snape to know everything. "Last detention," Harry said, rolling up his sleeve, "he hit my arm."

"Last detention?" Snape spat, "And you didn't tell anyone?"

"I tried to," Harry appealed. "I just couldn't figure out how to say it."

"How about 'Professor Quinn hurt my arm,'" Snape replied in a biting tone.

"Well, I kept talking about defense teachers and how almost all of them have tried to hurt or kill me!" Harry shouted back. "You knew I had just come from a detention! You're a spy. You should pick up on subtlety."

"Oh, that's rich Potter," Snape snapped. "So I should have deduced what happened to you, of course. And now it's my fault you've been attacked again."

Harry looked away; this wasn't going very well. "Er, no," he said quietly. He could feel Snape staring at him, but he couldn't manage to meet the man's eyes.

"I wasn't really listening to you," Snape confessed. Harry looked back at the man, whose anger seemed to slip away. "I had a lot of work to do and I figured you were just whining about the past. I didn't have time for that."—There was a pause—"But if you had told me what Quinn had done, I would have listened. In fact, I highly doubt you would have been in this situation if you had opened your mouth earlier."

"I—" Harry wanted to defend himself.

Snape cut him off, "Even today, in the hall, you should have said something. Why would you let Quinn take you off on your own? That is such a stupid decision!" The last sentence was shouted as the man's anger once again returned.

"I… I, er," Harry didn't know how to respond, he already knew it was stupid. "You were so mad, when you found out about the prank… I—"

"You were using me," Snape accused, "hoping I would get you out of trouble."

"No, I wasn't!" Harry shouted. "Er, well… I didn't want to come back and have Quinn beat me up, but you can hardly blame me for that!"

"I didn't know he'd do this," Snape replied.

"Why did you come then?" Harry asked.

Snape hesitated, looking unsure how to respond. "I had a feeling…I knew something was wrong." Silence followed for a while, before Snape finally spoke again. "We need to tell Dumbledore. He could use as much time as he can get to find another Defense teacher."

Harry nodded. Standing up on his own, he noticed that although head still hurt, the dizziness was gone. Blushing, Harry accepted his wand from Snape—the man must have found it in the hall. Lifting his arm, he winced, the shoulder was still sore from how Quinn had twisted it. "Shouldn't I go see Madame Pomfrey?" Harry asked.

"Your injuries can wait," Snape replied. "They don't appear too serious."

Before he left the room, Harry caught sight of Quinn. The man was in a heap on the floor, his right arm at an odd angle. Harry was relieved to note the slight rise and fall of the man's chest as he was still breathing.

After warding Quinn's door—no one in or out—they made their way to the Headmaster's office, without saying anything. During the trip, Harry's back was becoming more stiff and painful. He wondered how hard Quinn must have hit him to cause such pain in one blow. _Perhaps I'm being a wimp_, Harry thought.

Harry didn't catch the sweet that Snape called ordering the Gargoyle to move. In fact, he wasn't too aware of his surrounding until Snape was about to knock on the door. "I thought Dumbledore was out," Harry stated.

"He was," Snape replied. "But he returned." He paused to look at Harry. "You tried to talk to the Headmaster about Quinn?"

"Er, not really," Harry replied. "I told Hermione and Ron… Hermione said Dumbledore was out. We tried to go to McGonagall, but she was busy."

"So, you didn't try to talk to anyone else?"

"Honestly, Snape, how many people do you expect me to go to before I take care of matters myself?"

"So that was the reason for what you did to Quinn's classroom," Snape decided.

"No, it had more to do with what Quinn did to Hermione," Harry replied.

"What!" Snape's eyes went wide.

"He had her write lines," Harry said quickly. He wasn't so sure what Snape thought had happened, but whatever it was, he looked ready to kill. "Shouldn't I tell you and Dumbledore at the same time?" Harry asked, knocking on the door.

The door opened. Snape and Harry made their way over to the Headmaster's desk. The old man sat there, apparently waiting for them. His eyes were in full twinkle, regardless of the fact it was getting late. _Does he ever get tired?_ Harry thought.

"Just the two people I needed to see," Dumbledore said kindly. "Would either of you like some tea?"

Both Snape and Harry settled in to the chairs sitting opposite the Headmaster and accepted a cup of tea. Harry was a little annoyed to notice that it was flavored lightly with lemon. From Snape's sudden scowl, Harry was sure the man was annoyed as well.

"Harry has something to tell you," Snape prompted.

Harry directed his own weak scowl towards Snape, before starting in on his tale. Somewhere along the way, Dumbledore's eyes had lost their twinkle only to return later when Harry attempted to gloss over the details of Snape's actions.

"Rest assured," Dumbledore responded once Harry was done, "I will take care of Professor Quinn." Behind the twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes, Harry caught a small glimmer of raw power. In that moment, Harry was sure he understood why Dumbledore was the only wizard Voldemort feared. Involuntarily, he shivered; he noticed that Snape reacted as well. Dumbledore smiled, refilled everyone's cup of tea and then continued, "That covered, I have other news to share as well." His face grew a bit sadder, while maintaining its comfort. "Harry, your relatives' conditions are starting to look grim. They are not expected to live much longer."

"What?" Harry asked more out of shock than confusion.

Dumbledore continued, "The ministry has decided to push for custody of you, in case the worst might happen."

"A ward of the ministry?" Harry gasped. "Would I go to an orphanage or something?" He shuddered. The Dursleys were bad, but he thought an orphanage would be worse. "Please, there must be something you can do," Harry pressed.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore replied, pulling out a piece of parchment. "While Minerva was dealing with the ministry officials, I was at the ministry securing this contract. If we can get your Aunt to sign, it will give me temporary guardianship of you in the case your relatives die."

"And then what?" Harry asked.

"If they die, I can protect you, and help find a proper guardian for you."

"This all depends on if you can get his aunt to sign the document?" Snape asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied. "Do you think it's possible, even in her state?"

"Maybe. It depends on how much she cares for the boy."

Harry laughed, "Then it's a no—my aunt hates me."

Snape ignored him and continued to talk to the headmaster. "I will need to take the boy with me. She might be able to fight the potion's effect long enough to sign a contract. We should have a ministry official with us, as witness, in case the signature doesn't come out well."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I will ask for my contact in the Office of Child Welfare to meet you."

The two men continued to discuss their plans. Harry and Snape would leave tomorrow, despite the fact they had classes. After a while, Harry couldn't concentrate on the conversation. Instead, he worried. He was going back to the Dursley's.

He was brought back to reality when there was a loud knock at Dumbledore's door. When it opened, Harry was surprised to see Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville come pouring into the room.

"You have to come," Ron shouted, in his panic. He didn't notice the room's inhabitants. "The defense classroom is warded shut and I think Harry's in there."

From behind the redhead boy, Hermione added, "Professor Quinn physically attacked Harry and he was—Harry!" She ran over to him and launched into a hug. Moments later she released the boy, looking him over. It didn't take long for her to notice the large bump on his forehead. "Did Quinn—" Harry nodded. She turned to Dumbledore. "Something must be done about Quinn. He's physically attacked Harry twice now. That sort of behavior cannot be allowed. Furthermore—"

Dumbledore waved his hand, effectively cutting the girl off. His face was lit with amusement as he spoke, "I will take care of matters, Miss Granger." He looked over the rest of the students, "However, it is getting late, well past curfew. Unless you have further pressing matters, I suggest you all go back to bed. As you can see, Harry is now safe and cared for."

They all hesitated before leaving the office. Ron looked over at Harry, silently asking if the boy was okay. After Harry nodded, Ron backed up to leave. Neville was still lingering in the doorway. It hadn't taken the boy long to spot Snape. Yet despite his fear of the Potions Master, Neville would still be on hand in case Harry needed defending. Hermione gave Harry another hug, and then told the boy to see Madame Pomfrey. Ginny stood debating whether or not to approach Harry. She settled an encouraging nod and then followed the others out of the room.

"I assume they were also involved in your little prank," Snape spoke up.

"Not all of them," Harry replied.

"And you won't tell me who."

"No."

xxxxx

Sitting on the couch in Snape's quarters, Harry waited for the man to return from his meeting with Dumbledore. After his friends had left, Harry was also sent away so the other two could discuss Snape's Death Eater meeting. Of course, Harry complained, stating he had a right to stay. But the Potion's Master glared and threatened to send Harry off on his own to see the overly fussy Madame Pomfrey. So Harry relented, flooing down to Snape's quarters, and now he stared at the fire, impatient for the man to return. His eyes were getting droopy, and he almost fell asleep.

The familiar dark figure stepped out of the floo.

"Please don't make me go to the hospital ward," Harry pleaded, sounding more like a begging child than he intended.

"Come, follow me," Snape ordered. "I have a Bruise-healing Paste in my lab. And you can take a Pain Relieving Draught for your headache."

Harry was about to state that he didn't have a headache, until he stood. He was hit with a sudden strong sensation of throbbing pain. He vaguely wondered why he hadn't noticed it before.

Dragging his feet, he followed the Potions Master back to his lab. They paused briefly while Snape said a few enchantments, tapping the stones where the door to Harry's room used to be.

"Sit," Snape commanded, as he pointed to the couch in his library. Harry did as he was told. Snape disappeared into his lab, returning a minute later with a tin canister and a small cup. "Drink this, and rub this into the bruises on your arm," Snape instructed, as he handed over the potions. Harry drank first and then went to work on his arm. After a moment's hesitation, Snape took some of the paste, and gently tended to Harry's forehead. "This bruise won't go away completely," Snape explained, easing the awkwardness of the situation. When they were done, he added, "I should do your back, too."

Feeling much less pain, Harry made his way to his room, which now had reappeared in the stone wall. On his bed was a set of school-issued pajamas. Slipping them on, Harry wasted no time climbing into bed. Within minutes of his head hitting the pillow, he was out.

xxxxx

"Would you hurry up?" Snape called behind the closed door.

"I'm coming," Harry answered, running his fingers through his hair. Eyeing himself in the mirror, he grimaced. For lack of better muggle attire, Harry had decided to wear his Weasley jumper. Although it was embarrassing to wear in public, nothing else he had fit at all well.

Walking out to the kitchen, he joined Snape for a quick breakfast. The man didn't comment on his clothes, nor did Harry say anything about Snape's muggle outfit. He wore the same muggle clothes as he had the last time they'd gone to the Dursleys, but Harry still found the sight strange. Finishing their toast, they made their way to the floo.

Harry went first, calling "Arabella Figg's." Keeping his mouth shut and arms tucked in, he had a fairly safe trip through the Floo. He still managed to fall to the floor, covered with ash. Recovering in time to get out of the way, Harry watched Snape step out of the floo completely composed.

Snape spelled the soot off both of them, while Harry got to his feet.

"Hello, Mrs. Figg," Harry greeted as the woman entered the room.

"Good morning, Harry, Snape," she said, smiling to both of them. "You're looking much bigger than the last time I saw you Harry."

"I can't wait till I'm back to my sixteen year old self," Harry replied.

"Oh, I'm sure you can't," Arabella continued pleasantly. "Are you lot hungry? I could—"

"Excuse us," Snape interrupted, "We must be on our way." Harry smiled apologetically, as he and Snape left quickly. Once out of the house, Snape explained. "We're running late. Mr. Penman is likely to be waiting for us."

The man was indeed waiting for them, briefcase in hand, on the doorstep of Number Four Privet Drive. A woman waited next to him. At first Harry didn't recognize her. Upon closer inspection, he remembered the woman from the Department of Mysteries. He blushed, realizing the last time he saw her he had been a baby.

"Martin Penman," the man announced, holding out his hand. He had a Percy-like air about him, although, not quite as condescending.

"Severus Snape," he replied, shaking the man's hand. "And this is Harry Potter." Harry stepped up and also shook the man's hand.

"Jo, from the Unspeakables Division." the woman introduced herself.

Harry was confused; he previously thought the woman was an Auror. He was about to ask that question, when he figured out he wasn't supposed to know her yet.

"I've been studying this case for a few weeks now," Jo continued, "alongside Kirk Richards, a healer from St. Mungos. He's still inside. But I must ask all of you to refrain from speaking anything that isn't absolutely necessary."

The ministry clerk was beginning to look nervous, holding his briefcase closer to himself as if were his first line of defense.

Jo asked, "What exactly do you plan to do?"

Snape answered, "We need Mrs. Dursley to sign a paper."

"This won't be coerced, will it?" Penman squeaked.

"Impossible," Jo replied. "I doubt Mrs. Dursley will do anything, at all. We haven't been able to get them to do anything. So she won't be able to sign unless she strongly wants it. I can't go into the details any more, Mr. Penman, but if you'd like, I can write you an official statement."

"Yes, that will do," Mr. Penman decided.

"Harry will be able to get Mrs. Dursley to react, as she has been ordered to kill him," Snape explained. "Harry, you will ask your Aunt to sign the document."

"Make sure you tell her what she's signing," added Mr. Penman.

Jo gave Harry further instructions on what to expect, where to stand, and what to do if they attacked.

It was odd entering the house. Harry struggled to call it a home, but it was still a place of familiarity he'd known his whole life. So it was very strange to see the house was void of the usual furniture. The walls were now lined with magical chalkboards. He noticed they scribed down everything occurring in the house. At the moment, it was recording their entry.

Snape nudged him from behind, and Harry continued into the sitting room. It took every ounce of bravery he had not to scream in horror. His once plump relatives were noticeably thinner. Not quite skinny by any means, but now their clothes fit like tents around them. Being much smaller than the others, Petunia's facial structure was now bony and sickly looking. They were all quite pale and sat at the couch staring into nothingness.

For a moment, Harry thought he would sick up. No mater how much he disliked the Dursleys, he never wanted them to die like this. It was horrible. Slowly wasting away…

A warm hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality. He had a task to do. Contract and muggle pen in hand, Harry approached his aunt. The man he assumed was Mr. Richards stood near Vernon and Dudley, while Jo stepped closer to Petunia. Mr. Penman stayed a distance away, just close enough to see and hear. And Snape remained right behind Harry, ready to step in if needed.

Closer to his aunt, Harry kneeled down to look her in the eye. He shivered, staring into the blank emptiness, wondering if she were dead already. Swallowing, he said, "Aunt Petunia, I need you to sign contract. It will give Professor Dumbledore custody if… if you should die." There was no response, her eyes didn't even move. It was scary watching them remain fixed, without even blinking. "Please, Aunt Petunia," Harry begged, "you must do this. Just think, you'll be rid of me once and for all."

Petunia's eyes suddenly shot in his direction, causing the boy to stumble backwards. Breathing quickly, Harry got back up. _Get a grip_, he told himself; _she's just Aunt Petunia… why am I afraid of my Aunt?_

He resumed his crouched position, carefully avoiding the woman's eyes, which were now staring blanking at him. Making a decision, Harry looked at his Aunt's hand. It rested lifelessly on the arm of the couch, pale and bony; it appeared half-dead. Reaching out, Harry placed his hand on top of hers, ready to continue his plea.

Instantly, his Aunt jerked to life, reaching out and seizing the boy round the neck. Within seconds, both Snape and Jo were holding her back. With an evil intent she'd never possessed, she fought back, trying attack.

"Please, Aunt Petunia," Harry appealed, "please help me, please sign the papers."

Something flashed in his Aunt's eyes—for a moment he saw her there. The woman that took care of him, albeit resentfully. But she had raised him, yes neglectfully, but she had taken him in and protected him for years—even though she didn't want to.

Guilt welled up in him. Harry knew it was his fault. Something like this would never have happened to his Aunt if he'd never been thrust on her. It wasn't fair. No wonder that Petunia didn't want him. Look what came of it.

"Please," Harry begged again.

The woman before him sagged into Snape and Jo's arms, all fight leaving her body. They lowered her down to her knees. From there, Harry saw a glimmer of his Aunt hiding in the blank stare.

"Let her go," he mouthed. Reluctantly they complied, but remained looming over her just in case.

Slowly, Harry scooted the parchment across the carpet. A part of him winced at the floor's dirty condition; his Aunt would have hated that. He set the pen down, just in front of Petunia's right hand—careful not to touch her again.

After a moment, she picked up the pen. And, fighting a battle against her own limbs, she scribbled across the bottom of the parchment. Done, she collapsed to the floor.

Snape leaned down, grabbed the parchment and then motioned for Harry to follow.

The boy wasn't paying attention to him; instead he was staring at the heap that had once been his proud Aunt. He looked to the curtains, worried for once, that the neighbors would see her.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia," Harry whispered, "I'm sorry." He reached out to touch her shoulder, but before he could, Snape pulled him to his feet. "I'm sorry," Harry continued, looking towards his other relatives. He wasn't aware of Snape carefully pulling him out of the room. All he could focus on was the dying forms of his relatives. "I'm sorry," he shouted louder, his voice cracking.

Snape dragged the boy all the way back to Mrs. Figg's. Halfway there, Harry had finally stopped shouting his apologies and had grown silent. He vaguely heard Mrs. Figg say, "Oh dear," as the two crossed her sitting room. Snape had to take the boy through the Floo with him.

It wasn't until Harry was safe back in Snape's quarters before Harry opened his mouth again.

"Oh god, Snape," Harry moaned. "Did you see them? What have I done?"

"Harry, their condition is not your fault," Snape assured.

But Harry didn't hear the man. He continued, "They never wanted me, Snape. They never wanted to be a part of this. If I hadn't been thrust into their life, they would be fine right now. If I—"

Snape grabbed Harry's chin and forced the boy to make eye contact. "Harry. It is _not_ your fault!"

Harry stared at the man, unable to respond. The words washed over him without sinking in. No matter what the man said, it was his fault. The Dursleys had been added to a growing list of people who had to suffer because of Harry's existence. His parents, Cedric, Sirius, and countless other souls died because of him. And now the Dursleys died—all because Harry was thrust upon them. Who else would die because Harry continued to live?

xxxxx

Author's Note:

Thank you everyone for your reviews. I really find them encouraging… (as you may be able to tell, since I've updated a week earlier than usual.)

Coming Soon:

Chapter 18: The Boy Who Lived


	18. A Vision

Chapter 18

A Vision

xxxxx

Hours had passed since Harry and Snape had returned from the Dursleys, but Harry was still shaken up. After a while, the guilt had slipped away leaving him feeling hollow and empty. The only comfort he had was the fact Snape hadn't kicked him out. In actuality—without saying anything—the man had brought him a blanket and a mug of hot chocolate. So Harry sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. Meanwhile, Snape sat off to the side, reading a large Potions tome.

Harry tried desperately not to think about anything. As usual, it didn't work. "They just sit there?" Harry asked. "What have the neighbors said? Surely someone noticed."

"I'm sure that the ministry is taking care of it," Snape replied, setting his book aside.

"But what about Smeltings? Dudley goes to Smeltings. They'd notice if he was gone."

"His school, I'm sure they were given some excuse—"

"What about Grunnings? Uncle Vernon's the director there; they'd notice he's gone."

"The ministry would have worked out—"

"And then Aunt Petunia, she has lots of friends. They gossip all the time."

"Harry, some story would have been made up—"

"Oh, and Aunt Marge, she visits occasionally and talks to Uncle Vernon on the phone."

"Harry, will you stop talking and listen?" Snape snapped. Slowly, the boy turned and made eye contact. Snape continued. "The Ministry of Magic has hidden the entire Wizard Wizarding world from the eyes of Muggles for a long time. However inept the ministry may be, they wouldn't have any trouble hiding a few Muggles."

"Yes, but what about the strange people coming in and out of their house? I mean, just today you and I—" Harry stopped when Snape raised his eyebrow. The boy had to admit—wizards did all sorts of things that muggles didn't notices.

Looking away, Harry was silent for a while. Snape went back to reading his Potions tome. Again, Harry started talking. "They don't eat or anything? Why aren't they dead already?"

"As you said earlier," Snape replied, "they're not really alive. But it's part of the potion they were given. Do you recall what I told you about the potion?"

"Yes, it's a variation of the Ferratilis Potion. The one that Voldemort is using to control the werewolves."

"Exactly. Well, it doesn't work as well on Muggles. They don't have much magic for the potion to bind to. So they were given one command—to kill you—and they can't do anything else. The potion keeps them alive, magically, for as long as possible so that they have every opportunity to succeed."

"You made the Ferratilis Potion," Harry stated, "and the one used on my relatives."

"Yes, I did," Snape replied, revealing none of his emotions.

"Did you know that it would be used on them?"

"No, but I did need muggle test subjects."

Harry got mad and shouted, "That's sick! You… I can't believe… Just test subjects? That's all that you thought about them?"

Snape waved him off, "I did not mean to give you the impression that I didn't care." Harry stayed silent; he didn't know how to respond. So Snape continued, seemingly unaware he was talking to anyone but himself. "The Dark Lord wants a variation to use on wizards. It would be stronger than the Imperious Curse, and almost undetectable. As it is now, a Wizard's natural magic is able to throw off the potion's effect. So far, I haven't been able to make a potion strong enough that doesn't end up killing the wizard instead."

Harry gasped. How many wizards had the potion been tested on thus far? Did he really want to know?

"Don't worry about all of that," Snape said quickly. "You're not really supposed to know about that anyway."

"So, this is Voldemort's big plan," Harry replied. "Drug people and send them off to kill me."

"Actually, The Dark Lord never really thought your relatives would be able to kill you. He expected you to kill them in defense."

As if that was any better, Harry's stomach started to churn. The idea of killing Voldemort was bad enough; he did _not_ want to be a murderer. However, his own relatives? Sure, he'd wanted to give them a piece of his mind… but actually killing them… Suddenly, the images of their not so alive bodies came flooding back to him. It was overwhelming; he was going to sick up.

Standing, Harry managed to say, "Bathroom."

Instantly, Snape was at the boy's side, leading Harry through the rooms and into the bathroom.

Within seconds, Harry was retching into the toilet. His whole body began to shake and his knees felt ready to give way. Strong arms kept him from collapsing to the floor. Stomach empty, Harry allowed himself to relax.

"You should to go to bed," Snape said uncomfortably.

"Yeah," Harry replied, but he didn't move. He was afraid the motion might irritate his still queasy stomach.

Slowly, Snape helped Harry stand. He half carried the boy back into the room and eased him into bed. Snape stood there obviously uncomfortable. Snape had tucked Harry in before—as a baby—but he wasn't a baby anymore. Unwilling to be coddled—no matter how much he wanted it—Harry climbed under the covers on his own. Snape spelled out the lights and began to leave.

"Wait!" Harry called. "I… er… nightmares."

"I'll get you some Dreamless Sleep."

"Yes, thank you, Snape."

xxxxx

The next morning, Harry entered the Great Hall. He felt a lot better than he had the day before. His stomach was still unsettled and he wouldn't be eating at all if it weren't for Snape's prompting.

He didn't feel ready to talk to his friends about the Dursleys, but Snape had announced that it was time for Harry to get back to his normal life. And the boy had to admit; he was being rather foolish. He had never really liked the Dursleys—yet he still couldn't shake off the feeling of responsibility for their predicament. Sure, it wasn't his fault per se, but he still had a hand in it.

Since Snape and Harry had woken early, hardly anyone had made it down to breakfast yet. Harry toyed with the idea of eating some toast and leaving.

"Hey, mate," Ron said, sitting down beside him. "How are you doing?" Apparently Ron knew him all to well. Since when was the boy early to breakfast?

"I'm fine," Harry replied. He had sent his friends a note last night informing them about what happened with Quinn and the Dursleys. Yet he had purposely been skimpy on details and he was not ready to delve into the situation.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione greeted, sitting down on his other side.

"Hi," he replied and barely held back adding, "Don't hug me." They sat there in an uncomfortable silence for a while as the Great Hall filled with students.

Laughter and conversations helped lighten the mood. "So, tonight's the last quidditch practice before the game," Ron commented.

"I have detention at seven," Harry said, trying not to sound unpleasant.

"For the prank?"

"No, for attacking Malfoy—back when…well you know." Harry didn't want to remember that day when he'd finally lost it. He was so mad that he had cast _Petrificus_ on his way to Potions.

"Good," Hermione stated. "Although I don't believe your prank on Quinn's classroom was a good idea,"—she seemed as though she was taking great care holding back a lecture—"Quinn's attack was bad enough for a punishment."

"I have detention for the prank on Sunday," Harry said casually.

"What!" Hermione and Ron shouted at the same time.

"Well," Harry explained, "Snape felt that regardless of Quinn's unfair treatment, I should still face the consequences of my actions."

"That git," Ron muttered.

"At least I'm doing detention with Snape," Harry replied.

Ron laughed, "I really didn't think I'd ever hear you say that."

Harry smiled. Now that he thought about it, he never thought detention with Snape would be a relief—even after Umbridge. Of course, Snape wasn't his mean nasty self anymore, either.

"I wonder who our new defense teacher will be," Hermione said.

"I hope we'll finally get someone normal," Ron added.

"No such luck," Harry interjected. "There's no new defense teacher."

"Huh?"

"They're keeping Quinn."

"What!" Hermione and Ron shouted again.

"Apparently, if they sack the guy, there is no immediate replacement," Harry paused, checking his friends for their level of understanding. They didn't respond, so he continued, "The ministry would have an opening to send another Umbridge."

"They can't keep Quinn here!" Hermione fumed.

"They have to," Harry answered.

"I can't believe you're not angry about this," Ron snapped.

"I'm not happy," Harry replied. "But Snape said Quinn would have restrictions, such as not being alone with students." He tried to casually take another bite of his toast. He'd only managed three so far, but he could feel Snape's gaze from the staff table compelling him to eat more. Truth be told, Harry was very angry that Quinn was still allowed to teach, and he wasn't looking forward to the defense class directly following breakfast.

The morning post interrupted further conversation about Quinn. A flood of owls swept through the Great Hall. As usual, Harry didn't get any mail, and today neither did Ron. Hermione received her copy of the Daily Prophet assuring silence from her for at least the next fifteen minutes. Or so Harry thought.

"The dementors have joined You-Know-Who," Hermione blurted out. Curiosity peaked; Harry leaned over to see. "Listen here," Hermione directed. "Tuesday, Death Eaters raided Azkaban Prison. It is believed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named accompanied them, and has now recruited the dementors to his side. Twelve guards have lost their lives, as well as countless prisoners. Aurors are still going through the rubble of a once impressive institution…" Hermione continued to read to herself.

"That means Malfoy's dad got out," Ron sighed.

"Yeah, probably," Harry confirmed, trying to choke down another bit of toast.

"Of course," Ron said in a happier note, "maybe he died."

"That's not something to be cheerful about," Harry scolded.

"Oh, who cares about a Malfoy!" Ron snapped—his anger rising.

"I don't," Harry said, still in a chiding manner, "but you shouldn't get happy about someone dying; it's not right."

Ron looked mad, thinking up an angry reply, but quickly shoved a fork full of eggs in his mouth. Harry turned back to his toast, and they didn't say anything more for a while.

Breaking the silence, Ron asked, "Did you know about it?"

"No, why would I?"

"Oh, I don't know, probably because Snape was involved."

"I doubt that," Harry replied.

"You said he'd been summoned," Ron retorted. "How do you know he wasn't there?"

"Well, that doesn't make him a bad guy." Harry was feeling nervous now. Since he'd been on good terms with Snape, he hadn't really thought about all the things the man must have been doing under Voldemort's service. But after last night, he knew about the Ferratilis Potion. He knew Snape made the potion that was ruthlessly killing his relatives. And he also knew others had died from further testing.

"Spy or not, he's still a Death Eater," Ron accused in a hushed voice. "I'm not saying he's against the Order, but he still has to do nasty things."

"Oh, shut up Ron!" Harry shouted. Even though he knew he wasn't really angry with Ron, he couldn't help snapping at the guy. "It's none of your business!" Harry threw his half-eaten toast down on the table and then stood to storm out of the Great Hall. An article on the back of Hermione's Prophet caught his eye. He snatched the paper from her, and sat back down.

"Hey," Hermione protested, but then leaned over Harry's shoulder in order to see what had gotten his interest.

"Mysterious Owl Flu," Harry read. "All over Britain, owls have been getting sick. Many have died or become permanently incapacitated. The hardest hit area has been London's Central Post, disrupting lines of communication. It is unknown how this illness is being spread and we have yet to find a reliable treatment. Thus far, they have been using a milder version of the Pepperup Potion, but it is only effective in half the cases." Harry put down the paper, "Ron did you know about this?"

"No," Ron replied. He grabbed the paper from Harry and started looking over it himself.

"Have any more owls gotten sick?"

Ron looked uncomfortable, "Er… a few."

"Have any died?" Harry was feeling panicked now; he couldn't stand it if something were to happen to Hedwig.

"Er, a couple," Ron replied. "But don't worry, Harry, Hagrid and I have been checking over Hedwig everyday. She's fine."

Ignoring the boy, Harry got up—he had to check on Hedwig himself. Half running and half walking, Harry left the Great Hall and made his way to the Owlery. Ron and Hermione followed behind him.

In no time at all, Harry was at the top of the tower—somewhat out of breath—but he was there. He held Hedwig for a while, scratching the bird's neck. _She was perfectly healthy_, Harry sighed in relief.

"We're going to be late for class," Hermione reminded him.

Harry felt like shouting for her to just go, but reluctantly put Hedwig down. "I'll see you later, girl," he said, giving her one final pet.

"Come on," Ron prompted. "We should hurry."

They were all late for defense class, earning them each a detention. At least it would be served with Filch. Harry knew Quinn wasn't allowed to oversee detentions anymore.

Harry was glad to see that Quinn was a bit cowed. The man was still strict, and obsessively followed his distinct routine. Yet, all he did was lecture. He didn't call on any students, nor did he use anyone to demonstrate. All in all, it was a rather boring lecture. Harry thought that it was due, in part, to the addition of a painting in the classroom. He recognized it from Grimmauld Place. Phineas Nigellus Black hung behind Quinn's desk. Obviously, Dumbledore had enlisted this former Headmaster as a spy into the defense classroom. Quinn was going to have a hard time being his usual nasty self.

xxxxx

After classes, Ron had squeezed in one final practice before the big game on Saturday. Harry was tired of practices. Usually they were boring, with him hovering about the others looking for the snitch. This practice, however, Ron had created a series of drills especially for Harry. The entire team was enlisted to pose as various distractions. The beaters hit the bludger back and forth between themselves, crisscrossing dangerously across Harry's path. Meanwhile, two of the chasers tried to gain Harry's attention, yelling at him or flying in his way. Ginny, not hindered by anything, was his competition; she, too, was looking for the snitch.

On the first couple of runs, Ginny beat him to the golden snitch, but after awhile Harry was able to maneuver the bludgers' paths in order to knock off some of his distracting teammates. Then, it was only a quick dive to beat Ginny to the snitch.

Ron was about to call for another run, when Ginny interrupted him. "Ronald, the match is in two days. We can't afford to have someone get injured."

"No one is going to get hurt," Ron retorted.

Katie Bell, sporting a swollen wrist spoke up next, "Ron, either we stop trying to attack Harry, or practice is over."

The others all glared at him as well, waiting for him to respond.

Harry stayed out of it. Truth be told, he was actually having more fun now than ever before at a practice. It was challenging; he had to fly defensively testing the limits of his and the broom's capabilities. Plus, it had the added bonus of focusing Harry on nothing else other than flying.

"Oh, all right," Ron submitted. "But we're still working Harry. He has to leave early for a detention. Um… how about we all play Seekers. Everyone try to get the snitch."

Everyone nodded, and they were up in the air again. It was really no competition; Harry was a lot more skilled than everyone else was. Sure, several were great flyers, but Harry was adept at spotting the tiny golden ball. All in all, it was a lot of fun, and Harry found himself laughing on his way off the field.

On the way down to the dungeons, Harry's laughter faded. He was not looking forward to his detention with Snape. For one, it would be awkward. Harry had acted like such a baby the night before. And also, he knew regardless of their new relationship, Snape wouldn't be lenient.

Taking a deep breath, Harry knocked on the door.

"Enter."

Harry walked in and took a seat in front of a parchment and quill. A prompt read, "Even when I am angry, I will not attack another student." Picking up the quill, he started in on his lines. After a while, he braved a question. "How many lines do you want me to write?"

"As many as you can, until I see fit to dismiss you," Snape replied.

The room grew silent again. Harry hated the silence. This was worse than a normal detention. It reminded him too much of the old Snape. And he still had an insane worry that Snape would suddenly reconsider and start hating him again. Harry chewed on his bottom lip; he wanted to say something, anything…

Snape walked up to him, "How did defense class go?"

Smiling, Harry looked up, "Not bad."

"Quinn didn't single you out, or retaliate in any way?"

"No," Harry replied. "Well, er, I got another detention."

"What!"

Harry's cheeks reddened. "I was late." And then he quickly added, "So were Ron and Hermione."

"And why, might I ask, were you late?"

"The daily Prophet this morning, it mentioned the Owl Flu. And I got worried about Hedwig, I had to go see her."

"I see," Snape replied.

Snape went back to his desk to grade papers and Harry continued on his lines. Again, the room filled with silence.

Harry tried to concentrate on writing the lines. At the same time, he tried to interpret Snape's tone of voice when he said, "I see." Was Snape angry?

"Harry, you are being punished for attacking Malfoy," Snape said. "Detention is not supposed to be pleasant."

"I know, sir," Harry replied.

"Then stop fidgeting and get to work."

"Yes, sir." Smiling to himself, Harry got back to work. He suddenly wanted to get as many lines done as possible.

xxxxx

Excused a short time before curfew, Harry made his way back up to Gryffindor Tower. He chatted with his friends for a while, and then began studying. It didn't take long for him to start nodding off into his Transfiguration textbook.

"You should go to bed," Hermione suggested.

Harry was about to snap at her, but decided he wanted to go to bed anyway. He tried to ignore the fact that Ron was caring for another owl. Hedwig was safe, so far, and that's all he had time to care about.

Lying down, he fell asleep quickly.

Standing amongst a ring of Death Eaters, Harry felt both familiar and disoriented at the same time. This was the first vision he'd had—and with the exception of Voldemort using his mind to direct the werewolves—it was the first time they'd connected since the Department of Mysteries.

"Let's give the boy as show," a voice hissed from Harry's own mouth. Suddenly, the realization that he was in Voldemort's mind sank in. He tried to figure out why; the evil wizard wasn't particularly angry. No, Harry felt Voldemort's pleasure and his twisted version of joy.

Instantly, the Death Eaters snapped into action. Descending on a small house, they blew the door open. Harry, as Voldemort, waited outside. It was a rather quiet evening; the sky was clear and full of stars—small details that he found odd to note.

Screams interrupted the silence and Harry desperately tried to wake. He felt Voldemort's delight increase as a man and a woman were pulled from the house.

"The muggle first," Voldemort directed. "Let the blood traitor watch. But don't get too carried away. I don't want the muggle to die just yet. I want him to die, listening to his wife scream as you take her."

Harry watched the man's eyes grow wide at the implication of what was to come. For some reason, Harry recognized the man, but couldn't figure out why. The muggle stood in the center of the Death Eaters—he wasn't really defeated, just resigned… resigned to a fate he had no power to stop.

The first curse brought the man to his knees; the second knocked him down completely, and the third caused him to scream. It wasn't a cry for help or mercy; rather it was a result of pain—immense, unfathomable pain.

Harry screamed, too, although no sound left his mouth in this reality. He tried to pull away from Voldmort's mind; he wanted to get away from the horror. But the evil wizard forced him to stay.

The next Death Eater raised his wand.

Harry could feel his throat growing raw. He knew back at Hogwarts his screams must be heard. Where was Ron? His scar started burning as he was finally able to pull away.

"Harry?" He heard a familiar voice call. "Harry." It was Hermione. Harry struggled to open his eyes. His head hurt so badly, it felt like his scar had split open.

"Come on, mate," Ron encouraged. "Wake up."

Opening his eyes, Harry came face-to-face with his best mate. Somehow, he had ended up on the floor, tangled in his blankets. His head was now resting on Hermione's lap. Behind Ron were the rest of the sixth year boys. Everyone was in pajamas; it must be really late.

Neglecting the pain of his head, Harry got to his feet with Ron's help. The others all stood around him, watching him. Feeling uncomfortable, and wanting to talk to Snape, Harry darted out of the room before anyone could say another word.

He sprinted down the corridors, still in nothing but stocking feet. Harry could feel the cold stones through the holes in his socks. It was amazing that he made it all the way down to the dungeons without running into another teacher or ghost. He stood outside the Snape's office, waiting for the man to open the door.

For a moment, Harry was worried Snape was busy—helping with Voldemort's torture—but then the door opened.

"Harry?" Snape asked, sounding shocked. He took the boy's chin and examined his forehead. Apparently the scar looked as bad as it felt. "What happened?"

"Voldemort and his Death Eaters," Harry explained. There were tears running down his cheeks. "They… they tortured a Muggle and—" He couldn't go on.

"Come in," Snape directed, pulling the boy into his office and leading him back towards his private chambers. He pushed Harry down onto a couch and disappeared into his lab. Handing Harry a vial, Snape said, "Drink this." Then he sat down and attended to Harry's forehead.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"A Calming Draught."

Harry downed the vial, and then relaxed. The pain of his forehead was slipping away as Snape smeared a cream over it.

"Now, tell me what happened," Snape said.

Feeling disconnected from the vision, Harry was able to recount what he saw in more detail. Snape listened quietly, saying nothing, until the boy was finished.

"I'll inform the headmaster, but you should get to bed."

Harry didn't move. "Er… I, can I stay here?"

"Yes," Snape replied. They went to the hall and had to wait for the room to reappear. "I should just make this a permanent fixture." Harry blushed; he wouldn't mind having a room in Snape's quarters.

Nearing the bed, Harry asked, "Can I have more Dreamless Sleep?"

"Not after a Calming Draught," Snape answered.

Climbing into bed, Harry sighed.

"Try to clear your mind," Snape suggested.

Harry laughed, "I don't know how."

Snape snorted, "I've shown you how twice now. Push your thoughts to the side."

"How?"

"Try."

Closing his eyes, Harry attempted to mimic what Snape had done, back when Voldemort was directing the werewolves. It was monotonous work, each time he managed to push a thought away, another one would pop up.

"This is impossible," Harry muttered, still closing his eyes.

"That's why it takes practice."

Feeling annoyed, Harry continued in his attempt to clear his mind. Over time, he slipped off into unconsciousness.

xxxxx

"Harry, get up," Snape called, knocking on the door.

Stretching his arms, Harry answered, "I'm up, I'm up." Rolling over, he snuggled deep into his blankets. He was only planning on relaxing a moment, waiting for his body to fully wake up, but it had the opposite effect.

Asleep again, Harry was startled awake, when the covers were yanked off him. "You've missed breakfast," Snape said. "Now, get up before I douse you with water."

Harry pulled his arms and legs in close to his body, trying to conserve some of his body's warmth. "What time is it?" Harry muttered.

"Time for you to get up," Snape snapped. "Now move."

With a sleepy scowl, Harry crawled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. His school robes had been sent down and were hanging up, waiting for him. After a quick shower, Harry dressed and went out to find Snape.

It was amazing how much better Harry felt. Both his mind and his body had had the opportunity to rest. He didn't have any nightmares and when he woke, his mind had not been bombarded with feelings of guilt. Somewhat reluctantly, he admitted to himself, that the "clearing your mind" thing worked really well. And he wasn't even sure if he did it completely.

"Eat breakfast," Snape said, pointing to the table. "Be quick, your first class starts in fifteen minutes."

"Shouldn't you be going?" Harry asked as he sat down.

"I'm leaving now," Snape replied. "I didn't expect to have to see you off to class."

Harry blushed, "I fell back to sleep."

"Yes, I realized."

Since he didn't have much time, Harry scooped up his eggs and bacon and stuck them between his two slices of toast.

Snape's lip curled, "What are you doing?"

"Well, I don't have much time, so I can eat this on the way," Harry explained as he got up with his newly fashioned breakfast sandwich.

"Harry, sit down," Snape ordered.

"Oh, come on Snape," Harry laughed. "I'm going to be late to Quinn's class again. I suppose you could write me a note or I guess I could skip breakfast."

Snape scowled, "Just go."

"I'll see you later today," Harry called as he left Snape's quarters.

xxxxx

That day in Potions, Ron was present to learn how to brew the milder Pepperup Potion. When they entered the classroom, they saw Neville talking to Snape. The boy appeared nervous, but at the same time collected. That was until a seedling jumped out of his backpack. Harry recognized it as a seedling from the Alesco Plant.

Neville's face reddened as he tried to catch the plant as it ran around on Snape's desk. It was awfully fast for a plant. He finally caught it, but then didn't pick it up.

"Longbottom," Snape fumed. "Why is that plant out of the green houses?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Neville replied. "It must have sneaked into my bag."

That explanation didn't seem to help the boy at all. Snape glared, "Ten points from Gryffindor. Now get the plant and return to your seat."

Neville hesitated. "Er, I can't, sir."

"What!"

"Er… well, it seems to have planted itself."

"Move out of the way," Snape ordered. Neville moved his hand. Sure enough, the roots had disappeared into a crack in the desk. Snape pulled gently and the plant wouldn't budge. The Potions Master's lip turned into a scowl; his head snapped up. Neville took an involuntary step backwards. "Everyone in your seats," Snape said coolly.

Harry took his seat next to Ron and, thankfully, Snape didn't complain. Despite the fact that the rest of the class was making the original version, it seemed the man was going to allow Harry to work with his friend.

Snape was in the middle of his dramatic lecture, emphasizing the various points at which the potion could explode, when Neville suddenly shouted. "That's it!"

The boy ran to the front of the classroom, oblivious to Snape's incredulous look. Taking out his wand, Neville cut the wood around the seedling.

"Longbottom!" Snape shouted.

Ignoring the Professor, Neville scooped up the section of wood, complete with plant. "Excuse me," he said, darting out of the classroom.

The students all stared at Snape for a while, waiting for the dam to break.

"Get to work," Snape ordered, spelling the instructions on to the board.

Quickly, the class obeyed. Snape dropped off supplemental instructions for Ron and Harry. Then, he began his usual stalk around the classroom.

Harry was glad that he got to work with Ron. After the initial, "Are you all right, mate," Ron hadn't pressed for any more details. In no time at all, they were working together, just like they always had.

"I can't believe he let you work with me," Ron said.

"I told you we were getting on better," Harry replied.

"Yes, I know. But for Snape, doing something nice for anyone would be a surprise. And then being nice to you…it's just unbelievable. I mean, you guys hated each other."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said. "Snape's been great. Would you believe he woke me up this morning? It was really weird." _Almost dad-like_, Harry realized.

"I'd have to see that to believe it," Ron said. "I'm still getting over the absence of insults. I mean, I knew you said Snape was being nicer to you… but he seems so human."

"Yes, shocking," Snape drawled. "It's almost as shocking as the jobs I will come up with for your detention if you continue to chat instead of brewing."

Both Ron and Harry's cheeks were burning red. Together they said, "Yes, sir."

Examining the boys' bubbling potion, Snape continued, "You need more ground mint. And when the instructions state five turns counterclockwise and then three clockwise, it means exactly that. Do I need to demonstrate the difference between the two strokes?"

"No, sir," they replied.

Snape gave a curt nod and then moved on to Seamus and Neville.

"Git," Harry muttered very quietly.

"How do you suppose he knew we were stirring it wrong?" Ron whispered.

"I don't know," Harry shrugged.

They both looked up at Snape at the same time. The man was glaring in their direction. A muffled squeak escaped from Ron, while Harry attempted to swallow the lump in his throat. When Snape turned to Malfoy's potion, Harry and Ron let out the breath they were holding.

Focusing quietly, they both got back to work. Towards the end of class, they were pleased to note the color and consistency matched the description—although it was slightly murkier than it was supposed to be.

"Excuse me, Professor," McGonagall called from the door. The room became silent as every student turn towards her. "I need to talk to Mr. Finnagan." Snape nodded, and then flicked his hand to excuse the boy. "Bring all of your belongings," she added.

Looking nervous, Seamus left the classroom.

Harry wondered what kind of trouble the boy had gotten into. Ron and Harry turned to each other and shrugged.

xxxxx

That night at dinner, the Gryffindor Quidditch team all sat discussing game strategy. Ginny had dished up their plates with instructions to eat everything. It was unlikely that Harry and Ron would be able to eat Saturday morning, so it was actually good thinking on her part.

Finishing his meal, Harry got up. "Excuse me, guys," he said. "I've got to go to Remedial Potions with Snape." He ignored the following words of encouragement and made his way down to the dungeons.

When he got to Snape's office, he was glad when the man led him back to his private quarters. He knew they were just doing Occlumency lessons, but the office held too many negative memories.

They sat down at the kitchen table.

Snape didn't waste anytime starting the lesson. "I want you to use the same method you did last night to clear your mind."

Harry nodded.

"When I tell you to," Snape continued, "open your eyes. That's when I will cast _Legilimens_. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, closing his eyes. Time seemed to stop as he pushed thoughts away from his consciousness. He almost didn't hear Snape's command to open his eyes.

"_Legilimens_," Snape cast.

When Snape entered his mind, it was very different than it had been the year before. It was easy to distinguish Snape from himself. It was almost like a physical presence in his mind… like a hand had reached in to pull out his memories. At first, he was too shocked to do anything.

"Push me out," Snape instructed.

Regaining a sense of purpose, Harry tried to figure out how to push Snape out. Meanwhile, Snape was riffling through some of his memories. Deciding on a physical attack, Harry pushed back. It worked, Snape was leaving his mind, but at the same time, Harry fell backwards—he'd inadvertently pushed against the table, causing his chair to tip back.

"An improvement," Snape commented as Harry picked himself up off the floor. "Let's go again. This time, try not to push yourself over."

They continued this several times, Harry always pushing himself back in the chair. His head was starting to hurt and he was growing frustrated. Dragging himself off the floor, again, Harry was glad to see a mug of hot chocolate waiting for him.

"Tonight, I want you to clear your mind again, as best you can. Can you see why it helps?"

"Yeah," Harry answered. They were both silent for a while. Harry sipped away at hot chocolate while Snape took some notes on a parchment.

After some time passed, Snape spoke up. "We should work on your wandless magic before you have to leave."

"All right," Harry replied.

Snape set his quill down in the center of the room. "Do your _Accio_ first."

Holding out his hand, Harry complied. Instantly, the quill flew into his hand. Smiling, he put the quill back into the center of the table.

"Now, try to lift it up."

Staring at the quill, Harry concentrated on commanding it to rise. _Wingardium Leviosa. _The quill shook. Again, Harry commanded_ Wingardium Leviosa,_ imagining it lifting into the air. Suddenly, the quill shot up to the ceiling and then fluttered back to the table.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked.

"Pardon?"

"To get the quill to move," Snape clarified. "What do you do?"

"Oh, well to get it to float I thought_ Wingardium Leviosa_ and then obviously for the _Accio_, I thought _Accio_."

"Is that all?"

Harry shrugged.

"It's just strange how it didn't work at first," Snape mused. "Are you sure you didn't do anything different?"

"Well, at first all I did was think the charm, but then I also imagined it rising."

"Try again without the charm."

Harry nodded and then stared at the quill. He imagined it flying into the air. It didn't move, not one bit. Glancing up at Snape, Harry shrugged.

"Try giving it a command, like 'up,'" Snape suggested.

Again, staring at the quill, Harry imagined it floating up and then commanded _up_. The quill obeyed, jumping up into the air and hovering at eye level.

"Wow," Harry gasped.

"Indeed," Snape replied. The man snatched the quill out of the air. "I need to talk to the headmaster about this."

"Really?" Harry asked. "Why?"

"I'm not sure this is exactly 'Wandless magic,' strictly speaking."

"Then what is it?"

"I need to talk to the heamaster." Snape's tone implied "Subject closed." He stared at the quill for a moment longer, caught up in his thoughts. "You should go back to Gryffindor Tower; it's near curfew."

"Sure," Harry grumbled. He hated it when people kept information from him.

"Don't talk to your friends about it," Snape directed as Harry walked to the door.

"Of course not," Harry muttered.

"Harry," Snape said. "We'll talk about this again. I just don't have all the answers right now."

"Okay," Harry replied, feeling much better. "Good night, sir," Harry called as he stepped out of the private quarters.

Before closing the door, Harry could hear Snape reply, "Good night."

xxxxx

Entering the Common Room, Harry was excited. He wanted to tell Hermione and Ron how he'd improved at Occlumency. His excitement died down quickly when he caught sight of all the subdued students. Some of the girls were crying. Spotting Hermione, Harry made his way over to his friend.

Leaning down, he whispered into her ear, "What happened?"

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "McGonagall just told us. Seamus' parents were tortured and killed last night by Death Eaters."

Harry felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. His knees gave way as he sat, half-falling, to the floor. He suddenly realized why he recognized the man in his vision. _It was Seamus' father._

xxxxx

Author's Note:

Another fast update for you all. I hope you enjoyed it. I will be starting school soon, so updates will most likely become more infrequent. Hopefully I can squeeze out another update before then… Some of you may have noticed that I started another story. I will be working on that one as well, but rest assured I will give this story seniority.

Coming Soon:

I've decided not to give chapter names anymore… because sometimes I can't come up with one before hand… and like with this chapter, I don't get to everything I'd planned, so the name changed. Instead you get some hints…

So, soon to come: A Quidditch game and a dance


	19. The Boy Who Lived

Author's note: So, I'm sorry this story has taken a lot longer than usual for an update. Life's been really busy… But, to make up for it, the chapter is much longer than it usually is…

Chapter 19

The Boy Who Lived

xxxxx

Sitting on the Common Room floor, Harry felt numb. Hermione's news had hit him hard. Seamus' parents had been brutally murdered.

The room was filled with upset students. It wasn't that everyone was particularly close to the boy. And sure, they'd read about Death Eater attacks in the paper—war was scary, upsetting, and horrible—but this hit close to home. Seamus was one of theirs… and his parents were dead.

Although this event was similar to Cedric's death—both sudden and personal—the Hufflepuff prefect's death had been met with uncertainty. They didn't really know what had happened at the time. Dumbledore had told them about Voldemort's return… yet most of them weren't able to understand the full impact. And then they returned home, only to have their parents and the ministry contradict the Headmaster's words.

But now the Wizarding World knew the truth, Voldemort was back. On a daily basis they all received news of his various attacks. Professor McGonagall's announcement—that Seamus' parents had been tortured and killed—served as a harsh reminder that all of their families were vulnerable. Every Muggleborn and Halfblood wizard thought of his or her loved ones at home. Not even Pureblood families were out of danger, as many were fighting against Voldemort.

Nobody felt safe. Their eyes darted around the room, looking from face to face for answers. Many eyes unconsciously looked to Harry… to the Boy Who Lived. Some said he was to be their savior.

Meanwhile, Harry felt quite differently. His first reaction was sorrow; he understood what his fellow housemate was going through. Harry had lost his own parents and his godfather too. And yet, he realized, Seamus' pain must be far worse. Harry was too little when his parents died and had only known Sirius for a couple of years._ Seamus' pain must be far deeper,_ Harry thought.

Then Harry felt guilty. He couldn't avoid thinking that he could have helped, that he should have helped. If only he had recognized Seamus' features in his father's face. Perhaps there had still been time. If he told Dumbledore… maybe they could have sent aurors…

Harry noticed how the other students kept looking at him. He was sure they knew. They all knew how he'd had a vision of the Finnigans' death. And he had done nothing. Harry didn't know what to do. He wanted to explain to them all how sorry he was… If only he could go back…

In fact, it was his fault Voldemort had resurrected in the first place. If it wasn't for his blood… if he hadn't let Pettigrew escape… if only…

His first instinct was to go to Snape. The man would help him.

But why hadn't Snape warned him? Surely the Potion's Master had known about Seamus' parents, the man could have said something. That is, if Snape wanted to bother with Harry's emotional reaction…

And then Harry felt angry and somewhat betrayed_… why didn't Snape say anything?_

After a while, Harry just felt confused. There was too many emotions swimming around in his head and he didn't know what to do. Unable to stand the common room any longer, Harry went to bed.

xxxxx

The Great Hall was filled with a mixture of emotion.

The morning post was decidedly slim. Those that received their copy of the Daily Prophet knew why. One headline read, "Owl Flu Cripples Communication." The article speculated the flu might be linked to You-Know-Who.

But that was just a small story, buried by several others. Seamus' parents weren't the only ones who'd been murdered that night. There was also news of random floo attacks, where people showed up at their destination dead.

Another report detailed a rush at Gringott's. Many people had come to empty their vaults. When the bank finally closed for the night, a crowd of angry wizards had nearly started a riot.

Many families were leaving Europe, fleeing to the Americas. Shops were closed, business was at a stand still, and as of yet, there was "no comment" from the Ministry.

Harry looked around at the Great Hall. Many of the students looked afraid—nearly panicked.

And yet, there were still a large number of students oblivious to the current events. Instead they talked excitedly about the upcoming Quidditch game after breakfast. Some were giggling over what they would wear for the dance that evening.

Harry's eyes traveled over to the Slytherin table. He expected Draco to be gloating, but he wasn't. The boy was moving food around on his plate, his pale face even whiter than normal.

Scanning down the table, Harry was startled to make eye contact with Gregory Goyle. The boy looked away quickly, as did Crabbe. Harry felt like storming over and demanding to know what they were looking at. But then he noticed quite a few students looking at him.

All wore the same pleading looks. Save us.

Harry knew it was his duty. He knew he had to kill Voldemort—or be killed—but he didn't know how to do it.

Unconsciously, his eyes moved to the head table, to Snape. A small part of him lit up when he saw the man looking back at him. Even though Snape's features were blank, Harry knew the man was watching him, studying him. It made him feel better; to know Snape was looking out for him. He almost forgot that Snape hadn't bothered to tell him about the Finnigans…almost.

With a sigh, Harry looked away and continued to poke at his food.

"My first game as a captain," Ron said, "and all this _stuff _has to happen."

"Oh Ronald," Hermione chided. "Not everything revolves around Quidditch. Stop being so selfish."

Ron continued to talk, not reacting at all to what she said. "Seamus was one of the biggest fans. Remember how he always made a sign? We won't have our sign this time."

"You're worried about our sign?" Ginny snapped. "Who cares about a stupid sign?"

"It's not fair," Ron continued. "We should all be excited and nervous about the game. Seamus should be here with us."

"Life is not fair," Harry replied, getting up from the table.

Without further conversation, Ron got up as well and both boys made their way down to the Quidditch pitch. Neither one commented on the fact they were over an hour early for the match. Silently, they got dressed into their game robes and then sat on the bench, staring at the wall.

"Remember Seamus at tryouts?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied, "he wanted to be a beater."

"He couldn't fly and hold onto the bat at the same time."

"He overshoot the bludger and nearly fell off his broom."

"It was an easy decision to cut him."

"Yeah."

"I wonder sometimes, how much of it was nerves."

Harry looked over to Ron, "huh?"

"You know, with me, I was always so nervous. I made the stupidest mistakes. What if the same were true of Seamus?"

"Our beaters are really good Ron, even if Seamus was just nervous, we would have chosen the same people."

"I suppose it's a good thing we didn't chose Seamus, I mean he wouldn't have been able to play anyway."

Harry stared at Ron in shock. He couldn't decide whether or not to sock the boy. Did the redhead have to be so self centered? He opened his mouth to speak, but Ron cut him off.

"I can't help thinking who's next? You know. Like your godfather died. Seamus' parents… who else is going to lose their family? Me? Hermione? And what am I doing about it?"

There was a short pause, where Harry almost had the chance to speak, but Ron continued.

"You're going to be an Auror and whatever Hermione decides to do, I'm sure it will be helpful. But me… I'm going to be an animal keeper. What good is that?"

"Well, Charlie does a lot for the order…"

"Charlie is Charlie, I'm just Ron. I can't do anything! There's a war Harry! I need to help in some way. You know, I'd be an Auror if I could, but I didn't get a high enough grade on my Potions OWL."

Harry would kill to be "just Harry," he hated being the Boy Who Lived. "Ron, did you know that it's my responsibility to kill Voldemort?"

"What?!" Ron exclaimed. "Oh Harry, don't be an idiot. I know a lot of people think you're going to save the world again, but you're just sixteen. When I said I wanted to be doing something, I meant taking down some death eaters, or something…"

"Ron, it was in the prophecy, the one Voldemort was after in the Department of Mysteries."

"But it was destroyed."

"Dumbledore knew what it said and he told me. I'm supposed to kill Voldemort or be killed. That's why Voldemort came after me when I was a baby. He heard a part of it, and tried to kill me first."

"That's insane Harry. How can you destroy You-Know-Who? This prophecy sounds like something Trelawney would think up."

Harry fought the urge to blush. He knew there was no way to convince Ron that this time, Trelawney had actually made a real prophecy. "Look Ron, trust me, I know how unbelievable it is. But it's my duty. I have to kill Voldemort or be killed."

Silence consumed the conversation, as neither boy knew what to say. Harry had never told any of his friends about the prophecy—he didn't even know if he was really allowed to. It made him feel a bit better though, letting Ron know. And now he was worried about his friend's reaction. A part of him knew he was being irrational, but he feared that Ron would suddenly get up and storm away.

"Well, I suppose you've killed him before. As a baby no less. If anyone is going to kill You-Know-Who, than it would have to be the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry turned to scowl at his friend, but he was wrapped into a headlock before he knew it. He punched Ron in the ribs in order to be freed. Without warning, he was released and Ron became serious again.

"I want you to know Harry," he said, staring into the smaller boys eyes, "I will always be by your side. No matter what. If you have to kill You-Know-Who, I'll be right behind you, watching your back."

Harry nodded and they both returned to staring blankly at the wall. Soon the other Gryffindor boys would be wandering in to change. "Um Ron," Harry said.

"Hhmm."

"Don't tell anyone, about the prophecy. I haven't told Hermione or anyone. I don't know if I was even supposed to tell you."

"Probably not," Ron replied. "Don't worry, I'll keep your secret. You should tell Hermione though, she'd want to help."

"Yeah, she'd be in the library, looking up 'ways to bring down a dark lord.'"

They both chuckled a little—too subdued for a full on laugh—and continued to wait for the match to begin.

xxxxx

In the last huddle before the game, the Gryffindors all circled around Ron. It was traditional for the captain to say a short inspirational speech. All the sixth year Gryffindor boys were well aware of how seriously Ron took this part of his captain position. For the past week the boy had stayed up late, hidden behind his maroon bedcurtains, practicing various versions of his speech. And now it was time.

Ron looked over the rest of the team, swallowing hard. Harry hoped his friend wouldn't lose his nerve, the boy would be embarrassed for weeks. Ginny stood with her arms crossed, soon her foot started to tap. _Spit it out Ron_, Harry thought.

Just before the doors opened, Ron spoke, "For Seamus." He was almost too quiet to be heard. Without waiting for a response, he nodded to his team, and turned towards the pitch.

The others all clung a bit more tightly to their brooms. With conviction, any Gryffindor was a formidable enemy, and they were ready for the game.

_For Seamus_, Harry thought, mounting his broom.

The doors swung open and they were out like a shot.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry could hear the announcer calling the game over the noise of the crowd. He was also somewhat aware of the slight chill and the heaviness of the air, threatening rain. Well above the other players, Harry focused solely on spotting the snitch. Off to the side, he noticed a yellow blur that was undoubtedly the Hufflepuff seeker. Under normal circumstances, Harry would be flooded with guilt, worrying over Cedric. But at this moment, his only thoughts were for Seamus.

The Hufflepuffs never knew what hit them. The snitch was particularly nasty that day, staying hidden for a long time. Meanwhile, the Gryffindor chasers were quite merciless with the quaffle, scoring goal after goal. In the end, Harry caught the snitch, in a rather uneventful dive. The final score was 490 to 50.

Before they all had a chance to clear off the field, the rain started to pour. Most of the students and staff hurried off to the castle. The Hufflepuff crowd was slowest of all, walking back with their heads bowed.

Beginning to feel a little bit of cheer, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny made their way back to the castle. Harry stopped dead in his tracks. He suddenly remembered. Tonight was their first dance and he was taking Ginny.

xxxxx

For a while, Harry worried about his lack of preparedness for the dance. He hadn't bothered to get dress robes in his eleven-year-old size, nor did he get flowers for his date. Even worse, he realized he had thought that he'd be back to his normal size. What would it be like to have Ginny towering over him? Would she even want to go with a little kid?

Therefore, when Ginny descended from her dorm wearing her regular weekend clothes, Harry sighed in relief.

"Does it look like McGonagall is going to force us to attend the dance?" Ginny asked.

"She hasn't come in to say anything," Harry replied.

"We should skip out before she has the chance," she said.

"Yeah," Harry said, as he got up to follow her out of the common room.

"Where are you guys going?" Neville asked as they stepped out of the portal.

Harry shrugged, while Ginny answered, "We don't want to go to the dance, so we figured we'd wander around the grounds for a while."

"You might not want to do that," Neville suggested. "Remember how the Professors were patrolling the grounds?"

"Er, right," Ginny replied with a blush.

"Well Luna and I were going to go down to the greenhouses. You two should join us."

"Sure," Ginny shrugged and then looked towards Harry.

"Yeah, that sounds okay."

After retrieving Luna, the four made their way down through the castle.

"Where do you suppose Hermione and Ron are?" Neville asked.

"They didn't say," Harry replied. "I think they were going to the dance together. Ron didn't want to go, but Hermione said something about Seamus not wanting us all to stop living our lives. Ron muttered something back, but I left before I could hear anything more."

"I could hear them still arguing in your dorm, Harry, when I came down," Ginny said. "So, Luna, how come you guys aren't going to the dance?"

The two girls hung back a few paces and continued their conversation. Harry eyed the girls and then shook his head.

"You did great in the game," Neville said.

"Thanks."

"Maybe Gryffindor will win the Quidditch cup this year."

"I bet Ron would like that," Harry replied.

"And you wouldn't?"

"I'd just like to be able to play a whole season."

"Yeah," Neville said awkwardly, "I suppose that would be something… You just need to keep from injuring yourself."

"Or being banned."

"And stay out of tournaments," Neville laughed. "At least you didn't de-age yourself to a baby. I mean, imagine trying Quidditch like that."

Harry blushed and couldn't bring himself to say anything.

"What's wrong?" Neville asked and then he gasped, "you did de-age yourself to a baby didn't you?"

"SShhh," Harry hissed, looking nervously behind him towards the girls. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone."

"You did it at the beginning of August, didn't you," Neville continued in a quieter voice. "I got lost when I stepped out of the wrong floo. By the time my Gran found me, she was furious. She kept muttering about some baby with my name on it! I was so confused. And then when I saw you, de-aged to eleven… well I thought, you know."

"Yes, it was me," Harry admitted, "but don't tell anyone!"

"After you used my name on the Night Bus, I figured you might have used my name again."

Harry's blush deepened, "you knew about that?"

"Well Stan's my great uncle's cousin's grandson, so he's somewhat related. And he looked me up to tell me that _the_ Harry Potter used my name. He was rather excited about it."

"You knew about it and didn't say anything?" Harry asked. "You aren't mad about it are you?"

"No," Neville replied, "but why do you use my name?"

"First thing that popped into my head…"

"That's really strange," Neville said. Harry's blush grew even deeper.

"What's strange?" Luna asked as she caught up with the boys.

"Er, nothing," Neville and Harry both said in unison.

The rest of the way was filled with Luna's conspiracy theories. Harry was never so glad to finally make it to the greenhouses. There, Neville took over the conversation and filled them in on the plants until they reached the Alesco Plant.

"Look," Neville pointed to the little seedlings; "they're all staying in their own pots. Only a few more days and their root systems will be developed enough for your potion, Harry."

"How'd you do it?" Harry asked.

"Well you remember potions, right?"

Harry nodded.

"When it planted on Snape's desk, I got an idea."

"Yes I remember that. In the middle of Snape's lecture, you got up, cut off a chunk of his desk, and darted out of the room."

"Er, right," Neville replied. He looked a little shaky, but he continued anyway. "I figured the seedlings felt more comfortable planting themselves through old wood. You see, they're used to being on their mum. So the old wood provides a bit of familiarity. They can use the wood's xylem and phloem systems in order to get their nutrients and over time, the wood decays, leaving them in rather fertile ground."

The three gave Neville blank, confused looks. So he simplified things, "the wood acts like a surrogate mother. I think that's how the Alesco Plant propagates in the wild. Professor Sprout said I should write up the case and submit it to _Herbology Today_."

"Wow, that's great Neville," Ginny said.

Neville smiled back at them, clearly proud of himself.

"Has Snape given you detention for leaving class?" Harry asked.

The boy visibly deflated, "it's on Wednesday."

xxxxx

They made their way back to the castle; it was nearing curfew, so their pace was fast. The moon was growing full and able to cast enough light so that they didn't need to use their wands. They were surprised when they made it to the main staircase without seeing another soul. Surely someone was still out and about. There were five minutes remaining till curfew.

Shrugging, they started to ascend the stairs, only to stop dead in their tracks. They all nearly doubled over from shock when they found themselves on the receiving end of four wands.

It was a rare thing, in Hogwarts history, to be caught by all four heads of house. But the students didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the sight of them. All had a disheveled appearance, as though they had been literally running all over the school. At first each face held the look of concern—some masked better than others—that turned distinctly to relief. Soon enough, though, the relief was transfigured into strict scowls. There was no mistaking it—they were in trouble.

"Where have you been?" Snape asked in his usual icy tone.

Neville shivered.

Harry wished the professors would put their wands away. Now that he cared what Snape thought of him, it was surprisingly hard to muster a defiant look. Although, he did manage to appear halfway confident. "It's still two minutes until curfew," he stated calmly. He knew that was a stretch, two minutes was hardly enough time to trek all the way up to the tower… but the professors should let them try…

"That is not what I asked," Snape replied sharply.

Fighting with the urge to look at his shoes, Harry struggled to come up with a retort.

Ginny rescued him from the trouble by saying, "we were at the greenhouses."

At this, Neville made a funny squeaking noise as Professor Sprout's face turned red.

"You were where?" the small woman shouted. It was strange to see this side of the usually easygoing professor.

"We didn't hurt anything ma'am," Neville replied. "I… I just wanted to show Harry his plant. And and…"

It was an interesting sight to see a large boy—nearly the size of a full-grown man—quiver before the tiny professor. _This same boy fought against death eaters?_

"Come with me, Mr. Longbottom," Professor Sprout ordered.

With one last glance to his friends, Neville walked off with the angry herbology teacher.

"This way, Miss Lovegood," Professor Flitwick commanded. She followed him towards the Ravenclaw dormitories.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley, follow me," Professor McGonagall dictated.

They moved to obey, but Snape stopped Harry's progress.

"Potter is coming with me," he stated.

"But she's my head of house," he replied weakly.

To his great disappointment, McGonagall did not protest, but instead nodded her head.

"Come Potter," Snape snapped.

Left with no other alternative, Harry did as he was told. They walked down to Snape's quarters at a fast pace. Harry had to sprint in order to keep up. To make matters worse, the boy could tell Snape was very angry_. Perhaps I could duck into a classroom and hide_, he thought.

In no time at all, they were in the man's quarters and Harry found himself sitting at the couch. Snape loomed over him.

"Did you tell anyone where you were going?" Snape shouted.

Harry opened his mouth.

Snape raised his hand, silencing the boy. "I mean other than the three dunderheads that went with you."

"No, it—"

"I thought not. Do you have any idea how much danger you could have been in?"

"It was just—"

"It is not safe for you to go wandering around, without a care in the world. Times are changed now."

"I understand that—"

"No Potter! I don't think that you do! Otherwise you would—"

"Enough!" Harry shouted, standing to his feet. "We were in the greenhouses! Surely you're not angry over something stupid like that!"

"Sit down," Snape commanded in a cold tone. "Don't raise your voice to me."

Instinctively, Harry complied, but in the process, he couldn't help but roll his eyes.

Snape pursed his lips. After some effort, the man's demeanor seemed to calm.

"Weasley and Granger were found in an abandoned classroom, each under a full body bind."

Harry's heart started to beat faster. "Are they… we-were they hurt?" he asked.

"They're fine," Snape replied. "And they didn't see their attacker. They said it happened near the library."

"But why?" Harry asked. "Was it just a prank? I mean I know a few cowardly students that would attack them behind their backs. Malfoy for one. You should ask him if he knows anything."

"I am looking into it," Snape said calmly.

"It was just a prank right?"

"I don't think so."

Harry gasped. "What?! So then what was it? Was someone trying to kill them? Or capture them? Do you have any idea?"

"I have some suspicions, but I don't want you to get all panicked over it. Now the point is, you need to be more careful."

"Wait, no, I want to know what your suspicions are."

"I have already told you too much."

"But—"

"Now about your actions today. Weasley and Granger were found two hours ago, and yet, in that time, we were unable to find you. No one knew where you were. That is unacceptable."

"You were looking for me?"

"Of course Potter, we were securing all of the students. You perhaps more than others, because you are a target. When we could not find you…" Snape paused.

"You were worried about me?" Harry smiled.

Snape stared at him, his scowl growing more intense. "No more wandering the grounds after dark. In fact, you are to stay in populated sections of the castle at all times. If you go anywhere else, you must get permission first, from a professor."

"Wait, come on," Harry whined, "I'm sixteen years old. I can handle myself." He stood back up and crossed his arms.

With hardly any force, Snape pushed Harry's shoulder causing the boy to fall back down to the couch. Growing annoyed, Harry attempted to get back to his feet, only to be pushed back down again. Not one to give up easily, he made a third and forth attempt_. Stupid little body!_ Finally, he settled on sitting with the strongest scowl he could muster. He kicked out his leg in frustration, narrowly missing Snape.

"Oh stop throwing a fit!" Snape snapped. "Now, if you even THINK of disobeying me, you will have detention with me during every moment of your free time. Do I make myself clear?"

"You can't be serious."

"Trust me Potter. This is a serious situation. Now we can pack you off to Grimmauld Place, if you're going to be immature and toy with your life. Is that what you'd like?"

"No!"

"Then will you do as you're told?"

"Er, fine," Harry relented.

"Pardon?"

"Yes, yes I will do as you want."

"You better!" Snape shouted, and then he sat down on the couch next to Harry, "Now tell me, have you been clearing your mind?"

Harry rolled his eyes. _Honesty, did this man think of nothing else?_ "Yes."

"Have you had anymore visions?"

"No, not since Seamus' parents."

"You're certain you saw their death's in particular?"

"Well, I told you the man looked familiar," Harry grumbled. "I couldn't figure it out at first, but once I found out they were killed, I realized."

"Hhmm."

"Hhmm?! That's all you'll say?"

"What would you like me to say?"

"Well, for starters. You could tell me why you didn't warn me about Seamus' parents death."

"Warn you?"

"Yeah, I went back to the tower and had to find out from Hermione… and… and it felt like everyone knew."

"Knew what?"

Harry blushed, and looked down at his knees. "It was like they knew it was my fault or something."

"And pray, tell, how were their deaths your fault."

"I had a vision," Harry said quietly, "and I knew that the man looked familiar. I knew it! If only I had been smart enough. I should have noticed."

"What difference would it have made?"

"Well, maybe we could have done something? Gone and rescued them…"

"Like with Black?"

"No!" Harry shouted, his face turning red. _How dare Snape bring that up!_

"I wanted to make it clear that you're not to go off rescuing the people in your visions."

"That's not what I meant," Harry snapped.

"Enlighten me."

"Well, if I had recognized Seamus' parents, I could have told you. Maybe you could have done something."

"So I apparate over, kill a few Death Eaters and then the Dark Lord? After all these years and to think it was that simple."

"Okay, so you and Dumbledore and some Aurors…"

"By the time we would have organized a team, they'd already be dead. And, most likely, we'd show up just in time to have a battle, where at least half our members would die. What's more, the Dark Lord would recognize me, and find out I'm a spy."

"But—"

"Trust me Potter, we wouldn't have been able to save them."

"You could have tried."

Snape sighed in frustration. "Well, in any case, you can rest assured. Whether or not you recognized Mr. Finnigan, it wouldn't have made a difference. It's not your fault."

Harry kicked his feet again in annoyance. He was getting too tired and all he felt like doing was stomping his way to bed. Yet there was a burning dread, _if Snape and Dumbledore can't kill Voldemort…_

"How am I supposed to defeat him?" Harry asked desperately.

"I don't know."

"Oh, that helps."

"Listen Harry. No one expects you to defeat him now. You need a lot more training, even after Hogwarts. But you have a lot of potential to become a powerful wizard."

"And in the meantime lots of people get tortured and killed?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Harry wanted to yell and shout. _I should be doing something more!_ He felt like he was sitting on the sidelines while the rest of the world suffered. Yet, the thought of joining the fight terrified him. He would have to kill.

"I wish I wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived."

"You'd rather be the Boy-Who-Died?"

In a fit of annoyance, Harry stuck out his tongue and then instantly blushed.

"Did you just stick your tongue out?"

"No," he immediately lied, as his blush grew even deeper.

"You should go to bed," Snape said. "And occlude before you fall asleep."

"Er, all right," Harry mumbled.

xxxxx

Over the next few days, Hermione, Ron and Harry spent time trying to figure out who attacked them. Right off the bat, Harry relayed Snape's suspicion that the attack was somehow related to Voldemort. Still, none of them believed an outsider had done it. As far as they were concerned, Voldemort had enough Death Eater children to use from Slytherin.

Ron was convinced it was Malfoy, but Hermione thought it was a seventh year that she'd seen sneaking in alcohol. Harry didn't know who to suspect, to him, several students seemed a bit "shifty." On more than one occasion, Harry had noticed students eyeing him strangely or following him around. But he couldn't be sure if he was being paranoid or not.

In any case, the week had been going fairly well. Harry was getting much better at Occlumency. In his latest lesson with Snape, he managed to push the man out of his mind on his first try. As a result—to Harry's dismay—Snape increased the severity of his attacks. But even with the added difficulty, Harry didn't mind the lessons, because he felt excited to prove himself.

Yet, even though he greatly improved with Occlumency, that did not mean his visions stopped. Since the dance, he'd already had two more. He never recognized the people being tortured, but he tried to describe them to Snape as much as he could.

Eventually, Snape explained to him that the Dark Lord was forcing him to witness the torture sessions on purpose. It was the evil wizard's plan to get Harry as scared as possible.

It was working. Harry found that, despite his Gryffindor bravery, he feared a confrontation with Voldemort more and more. How could he defeat Voldemort?

The nights he didn't have visions, Harry had nightmares. So that meant that every night since the dance, he had made a midnight trek down to the dungeons. Ron walked with him each time, making Harry feel like such an idiot, whereas Ron seemed to enjoy his "older brother" persona.

The worst part of the trek, was the moment right after Ron knocked on Snape's door, just before the man appeared. Each night, Harry was afraid that Snape would be annoyed and send him away with a sneer.

That was never the case

And that's why, despite the visions and nightmares, Harry's week had been going fairly well. He remembered earlier in the year, when he'd been having nightmares—how he'd been so tired and he always felt sick. But now, since he had Snape, he felt much better.

It had been strange, though, the first night Harry came down after just a bad dream. He had been extremely embarrassed, but Snape didn't react harshly. Instead, the man listened to the details without interruption. Afterwards, Snape pointed out things that Harry was being an idiot about—such as feeling too much guilt—and then reassured the boy that he would not be alone to face the Dark Lord.

The next thing Snape did—the oddest of all—was to pull out a copy of Harry's sixth year potions text. He proceeded to read the current chapter while Harry lay back on the couch. At first, the boy found this extremely funny—of course this would put him to sleep. But after a while, Harry realized he was being effectively distracted. Yet before he could fall asleep, Snape would snap the book shut and then order him to occlude.

These nights, Harry would fall asleep on Snape's couch and then wake up back in the tower. Harry was grateful for this, because, besides Ron, none of the other boys knew about his constant nightmares. Or worst of all… his constant trips to see Snape.

It was on the fifth night, since the dance, that Harry had made it the longest before something plagued his sleep. So when he woke to a tapping noise, he felt fairly proud of himself. He thought it must be morning, or nearly so, and a dorm mate had woken and was somehow making that noise. In this mindset, Harry almost shouted at them to be quiet. That was, until he remembered Ron's latest owl.

Opening his eyes, Harry looked over to the stand—which was almost a permanent fixture to the room now—to spot the sleeping bird. It was another one of the school's Tawny owls and had been found to be sick earlier that morning. Sometime after dinner, the bird's fever broke and although it was nocturnal, it was catching up on a lot of much needed sleep.

Harry shuddered when he remembered that this little owl was hardly the only one that was sick. Hagrid probably had two, or more, and then there were four seventh year students who were caring for owls as well.

Unable to discern the reason for the tapping, Harry closed his eyes and attempted to go back to sleep. Almost drifting off, he was woken by another tap. This time, his eyes shot open and he looked towards the window. He caught sight of a white blur and jumped out of bed.

Opening the window, Harry reached out to his bird. "Hedwig!" Harry whispered urgently, "what are you doing here?" It only took a couple of seconds for Harry to realize that his owl was sick. As soon as her feet made contact with his wrist, he could feel the heightened temperature.

Heart racing, Harry pulled the bird close to his body protectively. In an instant, he was at Ron side, shaking the boy to wake.

"Get up Ron!" Harry said anxiously, not bothering to hush his voice.

"Wasimatter?" Ron blurred. Regardless of the fact Ron was woken on several occasions as of late; it did not change the fact he was a deep sleeper.

"It's Hedwig!" Harry shouted, "she's sick."

Ron was more awake now, sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes. There was a grumbling noise from Dean's bed and Neville mumbled something.

"Let me see her," Ron said.

Harry held up Hedwig near to Ron's face. "See," he said impatiently, before continuing his protective hold.

"Her eyes aren't droopy," Ron explained.

"Not yet," Harry whined, "but she has a fever."

"Are you sure?" Ron asked as he retrieved his wand from the bedside table.

"Yes!" Harry hissed; this was taking far too long in his opinion.

Ron waved his wand over the owl, chanting a few diagnostic spells. "Yeah," he confirmed, "it looks like the flu in an early stage. What were you doing up in the Owlery anyway?"

"Hedwig came to me," he replied impatiently. "Look, none of this matters, we need to take care of her."

"Well, we need to start her on the potion," Ron explained. "Hagrid's out right now, helping out in London. But I'm sure he has some extra potions on hand in a cupboard. Or I could go to Collins, Cunnings or Russell and see if they have extra. Although, Hagrid will be back in the morning, we could wait…"

Harry listened numbly as his friend continued to speak, although he didn't really hear the words. All he could focus on was his bird tucked protectively in his arms. Somewhere in his mind, he remembered that owls didn't really care to be held like that, but he couldn't bring his arms to let go. _Her body was much too warm_, he thought. Remembering back to the daily prophet article, he realized with a start, _half the owls die!_

"Snape might have some and—"

"Yes," Harry blurted out. "We'll go to Snape."

Harry was half way out the door, before Ron noticed the boy was on the move. The redhead quickly grabbed his cloak and flung it over his shoulders, but he didn't have time to pull on his shoes. Harry didn't bother with either, moving as quickly as he could without jostling Hedwig.

Ron knocked on the door, while Harry worried about whether or not he could feel Hedwig shaking—he knew he was—_but what if she was shaking too?_

"Ah Mr. Potter," Snape said, as if expecting the boy.

"It-It's Hedwig," Harry announced, lifting the bird slightly so the man could see her. "She's sick." Even though Harry knew he was upset, the sudden feeling of dread startled him. His eyes grew strained, as he held back the tears. _Please be okay,_ he begged, _please, please, please…_

"Come in," Snape directed and then guided the boy over to the couch.

"She needs some of the modified Pepperup," Ron explained, "every two hours."

"I am well aware Mr. Weasley," the man growled as he left for his storeroom.

"You- you have some right?" Harry asked quietly when Snape returned.

"Of course," Snape replied. "There's an epidemic. Now let me see Hedwig."

Harry, still with his arms wrapped around the bird, moved her a little bit closer to Snape.

"Harry, let her go," Ron instructed. "I know you're worried, but owls don't like to be held like that."

Reluctantly, Harry did as he was told and released his hold around his familiar. Hedwig balanced on his thigh and took a moment to shake out her feathers. Her usually perfectly preened feathers were completely disheveled. Harry's heart stopped for a moment, worried whether or not he had made Hedwig even more uncomfortable by his handling.

Meanwhile, Hedwig took two looks around the room and then stepped closer to Harry's body, leaning slightly into his chest.

"Harry," Snape spoke up, "Hedwig needs to drink all of this." He held up a fairly large dropper filled with a murky brown substance.

Knowing Pepperup, Harry had a feeling that it would not taste very good.

"Here, let me help," Ron said, as he grabbed the dropper. He reached out to the snowy owl, a bit more casually than he did with the school owls—Hedwig was a very nice bird—and was bit on the left thumb.

Harry could tell that his friend was holding back a rather strong curse while he waved his hand around. After a minute or so, Ron refocused on the task at hand, although he seemed to be frustrated.

"Let me do it," Harry demanded.

Ron looked annoyed, but didn't protest.

Holding up the dropper, Harry moved it towards Hedwig's beak. She turned her head away. "Come on girl," he coaxed as he tried again. "It will make you feel better." She can really turn her head; Harry mused as she continued to avoid him.

Ron sighed.

"Hedwig," Harry said more firmly. "You need to drink this potion." Reluctantly, she stopped turning her head. Taking the opportunity, Harry moved the dropper to her beak and squeezed the liquid in. "There, there," he comforted as he scratched her neck. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Hedwig shuddered.

As he continued to scratch her neck, Hedwig's big eyes started to close and she leaned into him.

"Now you need to do that every two hours," Ron reminded him.

"Don't you have another owl you are responsible for, Mr. Weasley?" Snape asked.

"Yeah," Ron replied, "but it's much better now."

"Thank you for bringing Harry down," he continued.

Harry was surprised by Snape's uncharacteristic politeness. Even though it was obvious Snape wanted Ron to leave, it was shocking the man was being nice about it.

"No problem," Ron replied.

"Now you may leave," Snape added. _Perhaps he's being nice because Ron's my friend,_ Harry mused. When it was obvious Ron wasn't going to move, Snape snapped, "now get out." _Er, or not._

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but the glare from Snape instantly stopped him. The boy turned to Harry and then to Hedwig. "I'm sure she'll be fine," he said cordially, yet his voice wavered a bit.

"Yeah," Harry replied, not taking his eyes off the Snowy Owl.

After Ron left, Snape spoke again. "I can get her a stand."

Hedwig's grip tightened on Harry's pajama covered thigh.

"No, I think she'd prefer to say with me," Harry replied.

"You need to get some sleep."

"I'd like to stay up with her," Harry said adamantly.

"She can stay with you, while you sleep," Snape answered. "Now I'll wake you when it's two hours."

Harry said, "Okay," without meaning it. He had no intention whatsoever of falling asleep—anything could happen. So completely oblivious to Snape's glare, Harry continued to pet Hedwig's silky white feathers.

With a sigh, Snape left the room. A moment later, the man returned and Harry found himself being pushed back into the corner of the couch.

"Hey," Harry shouted, but relaxed into the soft pillow.

Next, a heavy blanket was flung over his body. Harry had to react quickly in order to get Hedwig out of the way. The blanket was magically tucked around him, allowing only one free arm, which was currently bearing a disgruntled Hedwig. With a sigh, Harry rested his arm across his chest. _Perhaps lying back a little wouldn't be so bad._ Hedwig adjusted her feet a little, looked around the room, and then settled down to sleep.

"I can't believed you just tucked me in," Harry finally said. He couldn't decide if he was angry about it or not.

Snape snorted.

In the end, Harry realized he wasn't angry_. To think—**Snape**, of all people—just tucked me in. _Harry couldn't help but smile a little. _Is this what it's like to have a dad?_

"Go to sleep or not," Snape snapped, "I don't care." The man stalked out of the room, leaving Harry to giggle quietly to himself. A little while later, Harry heard Snape quietly return and sit at the table. From the occasional sound of a scratching quill, Harry figured Snape was grading essays.

Harry decided that it was okay to rest his eyes. He would stay awake, of course. With only his eyes closed…

In what only seemed like a blink of an eye, Harry was being nudged awake. At first, he was completely disoriented, until he remembered Hedwig.

"It's time for her second dose," Snape repeated, as Harry put on his glasses. _When did I take off my glasses?_

When he was ready, Harry took the loaded dropper from Snape and held it up to Hedwig. "I know it tastes awful," he coaxed, "but you need to drink it to get better."

Hedwig glared, to let her displeasure be known, but drank the potion without much fuss.

"Good girl," Harry murmured as he lay back down.

In no time at all—two hours seemed like nothing to Harry—he was woken again for a third time. He repeated the procedure and then fell right back to sleep.

The next time he woke, he did so on his own. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Snape sitting on the low table in front of him.

"Is it time for another dose?" Harry asked.

"No."

"Then what—" More awake now, Harry realized the problem. Hedwig's breathing was off; it was like she was struggling to catch a breath. With a start, Harry sat up quickly. "Hedwig," Harry gasped as he stroked her feathers. She leaned closer to him, her body swaying with fatigue. Harry leaned back, pressing his face right up next to hers. He listened intensely to each pant, willing for her breathing to even out.

"Harry," Snape called.

The boy didn't look up. Instead, he continued his internal mantra, _breathe Hedwig, breathe._

"You must understand," Snape continued. "She might not make it."

"No," Harry cried, the tears flowing freely now. "You'll be okay, Hedwig. You'll see. You'll be just fine." He continued to scratch her neck, in her favorite spot. Calming himself as much as possible, he listened to her every breath. He couldn't stop the tears though, so they fell silently. Harry closed his eyes, pouring his magic and strength into her, willing her to survive.

A warm hand rested on his shoulder.

They stayed there like that, for who knows how long—it felt like an eternity—until the panting stopped. Harry held his breath, he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes…was this it?

A small dry tongue licked up a tear. Instantly, Harry opened his eyes. "Hedwig!" She licked up another tear before shaking out her feathers and leaning into his hand. Obediently, Harry continued his scratching.

Snape's hand left Harry shoulder, grabbing his wand. He said a few diagnostic charms. "It's time she had another dose," he stated.

Quickly, Harry picked up the dropper, and without any fuss, Hedwig drank it. In less than a minute, the bird was fast asleep, leaning heavily into Harry's chest. This flu was taking a lot out of her, but at least her breathing was back to normal.

Needless to say, Harry didn't go back to sleep that night. After the fourth dose of the modified Pepperup, Snape had announced a marked drop in Hedwig's temperature.

"She's getting better?" Harry asked.

"I do believe she is," Snape replied.

Harry couldn't hold back the smile, or the subsequent hug around Snape's side. He was just too happy. Hedwig was going to be okay.

xxxxx

All day Friday, even though he had class, Hedwig slept on Harry's shoulder. The only time she'd wake was to fly off and poop. Harry was also a little worse for wear, falling asleep during Snape's lecture in potions. That did not go over well with the overtired Potions Master either, landing Harry a large deduction in house points and a night of detention.

Not that it meant much, Harry realized that night in their Occlumency lesson. Snape informed him that Saturday, during his "detention," they would be finishing up a special potion together. The Alesco seedlings were finally mature enough to be used in his aging potion. Saturday night, he could take the potion, rest up Sunday, and be back to classes on Monday in his sixteen-year-old body. Harry couldn't wait.

Friday night, Harry was really tired. And even though he was excited, he had no trouble falling asleep.

It wasn't until well after midnight that he woke from a terrifying dream. The weirdest thing was that he couldn't remember any of the details from it. The only thing he did know, was the fact that it involved Snape. Something bad was going to happen to the man. Pulling off the covers, it took Harry a split second to decide to go check on Snape.

He got up and ran over to Ron's bed. Harry was accustomed to waking the boy so that he could walk him down to Snape's. The Potions Master never came out and actually said it, but Harry was sure the man didn't want him to be wandering the castle alone. For the first time, Harry found Ron's bed empty.

Looking around the dorm, Harry confirmed the fact the others were all in bed. He contemplated waking Neville instead, but quickly brushed off that idea. He was sixteen years old! He could walk the halls by himself. After retrieving his glasses and wand, Harry made his way down to the dungeons.

On Snape's floor, Harry continued down the long corridor with only the small circle of light from his wand. Halfway there, Harry got an uneasy feeling, like someone was following him. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Pausing in his footsteps, Harry held his breath, listening intently for any sort of sound. All he could hear was the occasional snore from the portraits penetrating the dead silence. _I'm such an idiot_, he thought, _scared of my own shadow._ Trying to toughen up, Harry started to walk again. But he couldn't shake off the feeling of being followed.

So he took each step deliberately, trying to make an odd pattern in case someone was trying to copy his footfalls. Again, he stopped, more abruptly this time. He thought he heard something… Sure of it, Harry whipped around, sending a curse down the hallway. There was nothing there.

Laughing nervously, Harry turned back to continue. He hated the fact he was so paranoid, teetering on the edge of being just like Mad-Eye Moody. _Constant vigilance_… Harry was glad he was alone in the corridor; he hated the thought of someone seeing him act like a scared little kid.

_That's exactly what I am_, Harry thought, _nothing but a scared little kid_. Sure, he was fine with a wand, but without… he was completely defenseless. Even at sixteen, he was physically weak, but now he was an easy target for the bigger sixth and seventh years.

Just then, Harry was brought out of his thoughts as he was shoved against the wall. His head smacked into the stone with such a strong force he couldn't hold onto his wand. He heard it clank to the floor as the light went out.

Instinctively, Harry dropped to all fours in a hurry to find his wand. With magic, he had power. With his wand, he could defend himself. Feeling around in the darkness, all Harry could feel was the uneven stone floor. Behind him, Harry could hear his attackers lumbering up to him. Whoever they were, they were large—likely Dudley-sized. And for whatever reason, Harry got the distinct impression that this was not the usual school prank.

Before he could find his wand, the first attacker reached him. Two hands grabbed at his shoulders, trying to get a hold of his arms. Quickly, Harry rolled over and kicked out wildly. A sharp gasp signaled that he made contact.

Instantly, Harry sprang to his feet and in a panic, he ran in the direction of Snape's office. He didn't get very far, though, before his other attacker caught him. He fought like mad again, flailing his arms. The hall was pitch black, though, and he couldn't see, but he was sure they could.

Ineffectively, Harry fought against his captors. His arms were pinned around his body now, but he let his knees give way, hoping to knock his attacker off balance. He ignored the screaming pain in his shoulders as they bore the weight of his body. Kicking out, his leg was caught too, and soon both legs were held tightly. It was obvious that he was going to lose, so he opened his mouth to scream out. But before he could, a fist made contact with his right eye, and blackness consumed him.

The next thing he was aware of was wetness. He was lying down on something wet—and dirty… it smelled like decaying leaves. Completely disoriented, Harry couldn't figure out why he was lying down in the dirt. Nor could he remember the gravity of the situation. So he lay there, contemplating the oddity of the moment, as he overheard voices.

"You were told not to hurt him," a voice shouted.

"I-I'm s-sorry, Father," a familiar voice replied, "I tried, bu-but—"

"Where's his wand?" another voice demanded_. My wand, _Harry remembered_. It fell, in the corridor…_ he tried to move, rolling onto his back. Looking up, Harry could just make out the stars beyond the tree canopy. They were beautiful, even though it was cold. _Why was he out in the cold?_

"The Dark Lord gave us specific instructions," the first voice shouted. Despite the man's anger, there was also a hint of fear.

"Boys," the second voice commanded, "go back and find his wand. Or it will be you two who report your failure to our Lord!"

"Yes, sir," they both replied in unison. Before they marched off back towards Hogwarts, Harry caught sight of them. _Crabbe and Goyle, of all the Death Eaters in training, why did I have to be caught by them?_

Suddenly realizing the gravity of the situation, Harry looked around himself. _What am I going to do?_ Crabbe and Goyle senior were watching their boys leave.Rolling to his hands and knees, Harry had a single thought—he had to get away. He tried to creep as quietly as possible. If he could at least make it back to Hogwart's grounds, inside the anti-apparation wards… _maybe I could call for Hagrid. Or at least hold them off until help comes_. But Harry knew, like always, he was alone in this. He had to figure out how to get away on his own. In the distance, he spotted a thick patch of sticker bushes. _Maybe,_ he though, _I can hide out in there. Being little might be an advantage_…

The forbidden forest did not have the ground for stealth. Only two paces away, Harry landed on a twig. The snap was likely to be the loudest sound in his life. Not one to dawdle in disappointment, Harry sprang up to sprint away. Before he could, a hand grabbed his arm.

"Snape!" Harry yelled. For a moment, he thought about how stupid he was_. Of all the things to yell…_

In the next moment, they apparated away.

Author's Note:

Yes, I understand… a cruel cliffhanger. But really, this is a fanfiction; I had to do it. Remember that reviews (especially nice thoughtful ones) encourage me to write.

Coming Soon: (perhaps not two weeks like I used to do, but I will try to update ASAP)

-A glimpse of the story from Snape's pov…

Sidenote: If you're reading "A Potion's Accident," I will be focusing on timely updates of this story first. So it might be quite a while before I update the other story. Sorry about that, but I am doing too much at the moment. And it would be rather cruel to leave readers with Harry in the clutches of Death Eaters.


	20. It's Time

Chapter 20:

It's time

xxxxx

Severus Snape lay staring up at the stone ceiling. He went to bed late, expecting to see Harry come by…again… Never one to play nursemaid, he was surprised by his own patience with the boy.

Harry Potter—son of James Potter…of all people! Less than four months ago, Severus had hated both of them.

Potter-the-father had been arrogant, strutting about the castle doing as he pleased. And, of course, being a Gryffindor, Potter got away with everything.

The first time Severus set eyes on Potter-the-son, he knew that the boy was exactly the same as his father. He had an identical pompous look and, as expected, he got away with everything. From the very start, the boy had the defiant look in his eyes, as though no one could tell him what to do. Severus attributed that to the fact the boy's relatives catered to all of his needs. Fifth year, he ignored Potter's memories showing him otherwise. So the boy had a few negative memories…Potter didn't have to dwell on them and feel sorry for himself.

_What changed?_ Severus asked himself over and over again. He was never one to give in to sentimentality. So how did he, Death-Eater-turned-spy, start to care for Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, and son of his childhood enemy?

When Albus had forced him to stay at Grimmauld Place, all of his beliefs about the boy had been confirmed. He didn't realize—until much later, after the boy had been transfigured into a baby—how blinded he was by his hatred for the boy. He should have noticed the effects of the Aurum Duco Pendant. As a spy, he'd always been very observant of people's behavior. How could he have missed the obvious exaggeration of the boy's emotions… it was unacceptable.

Severus had always taken his responsibility to protect his students seriously—all of his students. Aside from a smack upside the head, he had never wished any harm to befall Potter. So when the boy managed to go crazy and de-age himself… Severus felt a bit responsible—although, at first, he blamed the boy. How dare Potter muddle his thinking, so that he couldn't see the boy's declining state of mind? It took him a while before he was finally able to—very reluctantly—accept that Potter wasn't responsible for his own obsession with hating the boy.

And, for a time, it seemed as though fate was punishing him for his oversight. It was obvious the boy had retained his sixteen-year-old mind in his baby form. The incessant wailing was evidence enough. Of course the boy didn't want to be subjected to bottles, baths, and coddling.

It was hard, though, when Potter was only a baby, to view him as arrogant. Potter seemed so tiny and frail—not even overly bothersome once Molly finally allowed the child to fend for himself.

The biggest change occurred when the boy had relived his parents' death. Forced to tend to the screaming baby, Severus held Potter-the-infant for the whole night. He was surprised by how the boy clung to _him_, of all people… not that Potter had much of a choice at the time.

Severus didn't understand why, nor did he notice it at the time, but he had started to reconsider the boy. When Harry had been a baby…Severus noticed things _off_ about the boy. At first, Harry had been noisy and annoying—like normal babies. After reliving his parents' deaths, Harry had changed dramatically. The boy was quieter…too quiet. And then, after Severus had given the boy the aging potion, Harry was shockingly skinny. Initially, Severus felt guilty, assuming he'd miscalculated the potion. Yet, he knew it was flawless. Harry had returned to his original five-year-old physical form. Severus knew there was only one way for the boy to get that skinny… he had been neglected. And his theory had been confirmed when Harry was once again too skinny when he re-aged to eleven. Over and over again, Severus had tried to forget or brush off his new knowledge. His effort, though, was futile. Yet, before he knew it, he realized he cared for Potter—Though he loathed to admit it.

From that moment on, Harry trusted Severus. It was obvious the boy was worried about him when he went to the Death Eater meeting. In fact, in his worry, Harry had nearly burned down the house with the Weasleys' joke wand.

The Weasleys' joke wands… all prototypes sent to Harry for his birthday. After the incident, Severus had confiscated all the wands from Harry—not that the boy had noticed. The wands never did become a Wheezes product. The Order had found them particularly useful and, of course, now they were secret. Severus had expected Harry to demand their return, but oddly, the boy never brought them up.

Severus sighed; if only the Order were able to tell Harry more. The boy really did need to know a lot of things. Oclummency lessons were going well, despite Harry's lack of natural talent, but Severus doubted Harry would ever reach a level strong enough to hold The Dark Lord off. And so, Harry would have to remain in the dark, for at least the foreseeable future.

It was strange; the boy at only sixteen years old—essentially speaking—was supposed to save the Wizarding World. And yet, Harry couldn't be trusted with the critical information necessary for his survival.

Harry had no idea just how vulnerable he was; the Dark Lord had countless plans to capture the boy. In fact, it was somewhat of an obsession for the evil wizard. He wanted the boy _alive_.

Shortly after the incident at the Department of Mysteries, Bellatrix Lestrange had presented the Dark Lord with a new-found dark curse. The evil wizard, from that moment on, wanted to use the curse on Potter. It wasn't until four weeks into the summer that Severus had finally been informed of the curse.

At the time, Severus was busy testing his Ferratilis Potion. It had been formulated and given to most of the Werewolf population, distributed, in part, by Fenrir Greyback. Severus was supposed to have a full moon to test the potion himself, but the Dark Lord had other plans.

The evil wizard wanted to see if they could find Potter in his relatives' home—a task, as of yet, no Death Eater had managed to do. Even though the potion worked in controlling the werewolves, the plan to capture Potter had failed.

Soon after, several other plans to capture the boy had been set in motion. Some Severus knew about and others he just suspected.

During one of the meetings, Severus had been able to suggest to the Dark Lord the benefits of gaining Harry's trust. The evil wizard loved to see pain in others and he would enjoy seeing the boy being crushed when he learned "the truth."

It was a foolish plan; Severus knew that. It wouldn't bode well for him, as Albus had said. When the time came—if it ever did—Severus would not torture the boy. Harry would never lose his trust. The Dark Lord would be the one to learn "the truth." That moment was something that Severus both looked forward to and dreaded at the same time.

Even though the bond between Severus and Harry presented a lot of danger to the man, it gave the light a small advantage. It ensured Severus was there—before the end, before the Dark Lord could complete his newfound curse. That is, unless the Dark Lord decided to just kill Potter. So, if it ever came to it, the light would have at least one last chance to save the boy.

Since he presented the Dark Lord the idea of gaining Potter's trust, the evil wizard had done his part to "help." The wizard was forcing Harry to witness various attacks in order to get the boy as scared as possible, pushing him closer to Severus. So far, the Dark Lord's idea was working well; Potter was very scared.

And that was precisely what was keeping Severus up that night. Potter should have been there, knocking at the door with a terrified look on his face. The boy was usually rather annoying for the first few minutes after he arrived, blushing with embarrassment and apologizing for being an inconvenience. But soon, Harry would settle in and his presence would be somewhat acceptable.

Well after midnight, Severus couldn't understand why he was still unable to sleep. Sure, he was concerned about the boy, but really, he'd had a lot of things to worry about over the years and he rarely lost sleep.

Unable to fight the concern any longer, Severus decided to get up and check the halls. _A routine check_, he told himself. It wasn't unusual for Severus to roam the halls after curfew to catch a few wayward students.

Donning his robes, Severus walked out into the halls. Right away, his instincts were telling him something was wrong. He stood outside his office, trying to figure out what was off. A single torch at the corner of the corridor was always lit, even at night… but tonight, the hall was pitch black.

With the flick of his wand, Severus lit that torch and several others to levels normal for daylight hours. At first, he couldn't see any sign of disturbance and almost returned the torches to their nighttime intensities. But then, a short way down the corridor, he spotted a small amount of blood. It was an insignificant amount, yet he could tell it was fresh. Looking up and down the corridor, Severus couldn't decide which direction to go in order to find the source.

Out of the corner of his eye, Severus caught sight of a bit of wood. Upon closer inspection, he could tell it was a wand. Picking it up, he instantly knew who it belonged to.

_Harry!_ His breath caught, and for a moment he felt a bit of panic rising in him. He held onto the wall for support, while he tried to think of a reasonable explanation for Harry's wand to be abandoned in his corridor.

Mere seconds later—but what felt like longer—Severus snapped into action. Invoking the rights of a Head of House, he used ancient charms to lock down the school. Within moments, all exits were shut down; no one could get in or out. In the history of Hogwarts, this extreme measure had never been taken. Although locking down the castle was quick, it would take weeks to reverse all the effects. Even so, Severus didn't hesitate; he knew the danger Harry was in… and if his captor managed to get the boy off school grounds…

Rushing up to the main entrance hall, Severus passed easily through the lock down wards closing off each section of the school. By the time he made it to the grand staircase, Minerva and Albus were already there.

"What's happened," Minerva asked.

"Potter's gone," Severus informed them, holding up his wand.

"You're sure," Albus asked.

_Of course not_, Severus felt like snapping back, he didn't know anything for sure. Instead, he said, "I found his wand outside my office, along with a spot of blood."

"We should search the school," Minerva suggested, panic edging her voice.

"I will search the grounds," Severus informed them. He wouldn't waste any more time. He knew what the captor's main goal would be—to get past the anti-apparation wards and get the boy to the Dark Lord. Without further ado, Severus was on the grounds. Sprinting off toward the forbidden forest, Severus headed in the most direct path.

A voice, well off in the distance, caused him to stop dead in his tracks.

"Snape!" he heard Harry yell.

In that moment, Severus knew the boy was gone. He knew he had failed. Unable to breathe, he once again ran towards the forest, hoping that perhaps there was still a chance. Perhaps Harry'd gotten away and was calling for help. If anyone could get out of sticky situations, it was the boy.

Nearing the forest, he knew his hope was futile; there was no one there. Using his wand, he tried a locator spell, but the boy was gone.

For a while, he stared blankly at the rumpled ground below him. From the trampled bushes, he could tell a group of people must have been pacing here. A slight indention in the mud suggested a body must have lain there only moments before. Looking closely, Severus could even make out a small handprint.

Severus was angry—livid. He wanted to curse something. How dare the boy get caught… how dare he allow it to happen… He couldn't help but think, _why did I waste so much time?_

At first, Severus was unable to make his body return to the castle. He didn't want to have to tell the Headmaster that the boy was gone. Even in the forbidden forest, he could imagine the old man's twinkle fade away. The thought made him shudder.

Finally, Severus made his way back into the castle. As a Head of House, his magical signature was recognized, and the wards allowed him normal entry.

Within seconds, Albus was there. The Potion's Master didn't need to say anything. One look and the old man's knees gave way as he sank to the floor.

"Albus there are no—" Filius started to say.

Minerva too, walked into the scene; she gasped and said, "No!"

"Potter's gone," Severus spat with his usual distain. He rushed from the area… there was investigating to be done. All of his emotions, his guilt and fear, he kept locked inside him. To the world, he displayed the usual angry man… and he had attackers to swoop down on.

xxxxx

Severus Snape stalked down the hall full speed, his robes menacingly billowing behind him. If a student—or teacher for that matter—had been out in the halls to see him, they would have turned tail and hidden. As it was, each and every individual was trapped in their respective locations. Only the headmaster and his four heads of house were able to pass through the wards locking off each section.

But, of course, Hogwarts did not deny entrance to those outside the castle, just in case some errant student was attempting to get in. Those students were in for a bit of a shock, though, when they were transported to a secure room in the heart of the castle. And that was where Severus was headed now. Whatever brainless children had helped remove Harry from Hogwarts were undoubtedly going to be found there.

Entering the room, Severus was briefly surprised by the number of students present. Over by a group of first years, he spotted the two boys he was looking for. Crabbe and Goyle both appeared nervous and jumpy, but visibly calmed when they caught sight of the Potions Master.

In that moment, Severus felt some of his anger dissipate. _Stupid children!_ The boys didn't know what they were getting into. He knew most of his Slytherins had been taught the "glory" of being a Death Eater and following the Dark Lord… but none of them really knew what it as like. Severus couldn't help them, either. Instead, he got to sit by and watch them make the same mistakes as he had.

He had never considered Crabbe and Goyle to be particularly bright, and he doubted whether or not they understood what they had done. Not that they really had a choice in the matter. Their fathers ran strict households; whatever the fathers wanted, the families complied.

Capturing Harry was likely seen as a task earning the boys a place amongst the ranks of the Death Eaters. It also marked the end to all help from the light side. The boys would be expelled, perhaps sent to Azkaban. There was a chance that the boys could come back, begging for forgiveness… but they wouldn't know to come and look for it. In any case, Severus still had to sit by and watch.

A familiar voice brought him out of his contemplations. "What's going on, sir?" Ron Weasley whined. "Why are we stuck here?"

All at once, something inside of him snapped as his anger rushed back to him. Without thinking, Severus whipped around to face the red head. "Where have you been," he snapped. In respond, the Weasley boy just gapped at him like a fish. Ignoring him, Severus continued. "What were you doing wandering around after curfew, while your friend was attacked?"

"Er… wha—" Weasley stuttered. "Harry?"

"The boy's been taken to the Dark Lord," Severus sneered. "Likely to be tortured and killed because you—"

"Severus Snape!" The headmaster called.

Severus sighed in frustration, but held his tongue.

"You will go and inform the other teachers what has happened," the old man ordered firmly. "Also, you need to check the corridors and begin dismantling the wards."

"Headmaster, I—"

Albus held up his hand. The man's order was absolute and Severus knew there was no point in arguing. Fixing a steady glare, Severus looked over the students once more before stalking out of the room.

Still angry, Severus had a hard time focusing on taking down the wards. After a while, he decided his energy would be better spent arranging everything he needed for the Dark Lord's call. Basically, he was already prepared, but this calling would be different. This time, he did not expect to survive.

Reaching his quarters, he was surprised to find Hedwig waiting for him at his door. The bird, strangely enough, was standing on the ground, looking at the bloodied stones. As soon as she spotted him, the bird flew up to his shoulder. He scratched Hedwig's neck like he'd seen Harry do the night before. In response, Hedwig groomed a lock of his hair.

"I'll get him back," Severus said quietly.

xxxxx

It was nearly midnight the next day and Severus still hadn't been called. Initially, he'd been reluctant to even leave his quarters. For the first time in a long time, he was content to sit and wait for the call. But Albus had stopped by his quarters around ten that morning and asked for his help with the wards.

After getting out, Severus was glad to have the distraction. He even got some pleasure from ignoring Professor Quinn's pleas for help. The man was still stuck in his quarters, and so far, no head of house had bothered to let him out.

It was also nice that the students were still restricted to their dormitories. Since it was the weekend, they had all decided that the students could wait for a while. That way, the wards in the main corridors could be dismantled without children in the way.

Most of the day was spent counteracting the wards. Severus did sit in on Crabbe and Goyle's interview with the Headmaster. Neither of them voluntarily gave up any information, but Severus took the opportunity to glance at their thoughts. At the moment, the boys' only concern was finding Potter's wand. He felt a bit of regret knowing both would have to face their fathers empty handed.

Severus considered contacting their fathers himself, under the pretense of helping their sons out of trouble. Perhaps the two men were keeping Harry until their sons had a chance to retrieve the wand.

Nothing could get out of Hogwarts, so there was no threat of the Dark Lord finding out about the incident. That was until the students were allowed out of their dormitories. Within hours, the wizarding world would be informed. That is, if the communication structure was still functioning.

Severus looked over towards Hedwig as she sat grooming herself on a perch near his desk. The bird had slept in his quarters all day and still didn't seem all that antsy to get out. He had decided to keep the bird near by, just in case. It was obvious from Harry's reaction that the boy was awfully close to the bird. _Perhaps their bond is enough_, he thought.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. A migraine was coming on. To make matters worse, the floo flared up.

"May I come down?" the headmaster called.

For a moment, Severus contemplated ignoring the man. He knew no one could pass through his floo unless given permission. With a sigh, he said, "You may." Once the old man had stepped all the way through, Severus added, "It's late."

"This will only take a moment. Have you heard any news?"

Severus raised an eyebrow, hundreds of sarcastic comments on the tip of his tongue. But at the moment, he realized he was too tired for it. Instead he simply said, "No."

"You're sure of Voldemort's plans?"

Severus twitched at the name. "Of course, I am not sure." Albus didn't respond and waited patiently for Severus to say more. The young man sighed before continuing. "I can never be positive of the Dark Lord's plans."

"So he may already be dead?" Albus asked, a small amount of fear allowing its way into his voice.

"Perhaps."

"But you don't think so?"

"The Dark Lord has looked forward to using the curse on Potter. So I doubt he would have allowed him to die, yet."

"You're certain you'll be called before the curse is used?" Severus was ready to roll his eyes. Of course he wasn't certain. Albus elaborated, "The bond, between the two of you, it's strong enough?"

"I don't know," Severus responded. He really couldn't be certain about his bond with Harry. The night Harry relived his parent's death, the boy had ended up entrusting himself to Severus. And even though Harry still had his sixteen-year-old mind, the boy was largely operating under an infantile mentality. His magical core was innocent and, without hesitation, it reached out and connected to Severus' core, creating a bond between the man and the boy, much like a wizard child creates with his or her parents. And yet, Severus knew this bond was not permanent—there was no blood connection—maybe the man had broken Harry's trust.

Harry still had living relatives and even though they were muggles, the boy was still connected to them by blood. But they would be dead soon, as their bodies slowly died under the Ferratilis Potion's control.

Yet, they had another hope; Harry was likely to be connected to his best friends as well. Severus knew it was important to keep them both safe. "Perhaps it is time to move Weasley and Granger to Grim—"

Albus held up his hand to silence the man. "If they were moved, it's likely Tom would become suspicious, would he not?"

"He would."

"Well, we won't compromise your position before it is absolutely necessary."

"My position is meaningless unless the Dark Lord calls," Severus retorted.

"You will not lose Tom's favor until there is no other choice," Albus directed firmly.

"By then, the boy may be dead."

Albus ignored the man's comment; instead he continued giving orders. "You need to rest now and, in the morning, I would like you to continue dismantling the wards in the dungeons. We need to be prepared for classes on Monday."

"Yes, sir," Severus bit out sarcastically.

"Severus," Albus spoke in a softer tone, "we will get Harry back."

Severus snorted.

xxxxx

Three days later, Severus sat in the basement of Grimmauld Place. Around the table was the innermost group of the Order of the Phoenix.

Monday morning, the students had been released from their dormitories and by noon, news of Harry's capture had reached London. That night, a special edition had been released by the Daily Prophet. Since then, several students had been removed from Hogwarts. More families fled the area to the Americas. A mob of angry wizards and witches had collected in front of the Ministry, demanding answers from Fudge. So far, there had been "no comment" from the ministry, other than to say they didn't really _know_ that the boy's disappearance was connected to "You-Know-Who."

From the Dark Lord's side, there had been no activity. Severus still hadn't been called. Neither had any of his "friends" attempted to contact him. He knew if Lucius was able the man would have owled by now. He was also surprised that Crabbe and Goyle Senior had not appeared to protest their boys' expulsion.

Severus knew that this could be a really bad sign… perhaps he'd already fallen out of the Dark Lord's favor. But he also knew that this could mean nothing. Perhaps the Dark Lord was rewarding some members with a chance to "play" with their catch. Perhaps the Dark Lord was testing him, making sure he didn't make any move to search for the boy. In any case, Severus knew he couldn't be positive about anything. And that drove him crazy.

"How do we know the boy isn't dead already?" Mad Eye asked again. This time he looked towards Severus for the answer, his good eye full of accusation.

"As we've said before," Albus answered, "we don't know anything about Harry's wellbeing."

"His relatives are still alive?" Lupin asked, his voice hinging on panic. Even though Severus protested the werewolf's presence, Albus allowed him to stay. Since Lupin had showed up at Grimmauld Place, the man had been near a nervous breakdown—tears never far from his eyes. It was also drawing close to a full moon—and with the Ferratilis Potion running in his veins, the threat was even greater with him near—not that the potion had any affect while Lupin was in his human form.

"His relatives are still alive," Albus replied. "But they have been moved to St. Mungo's."

"We have to find him," Lupin shouted. He'd said this before, countless times during meetings and in passing. Severus wondered if the man had lost it after all.

"Yes, Albus," Mrs. Weasley added, "do we have a plan?"

"One," Albus replied.

"So we place all our trust in a spy?" Mad Eye spat.

"We don't know where they're keeping him," Albus continued. "We have no idea where to look for the boy."

"We could try knocking on some doors," Lupin suggested.

"I'm sure Malfoy knows where the boy is," Mr. Weasley said.

Mad Eye ignored the others and continued directing his comments towards Severus. "Why hasn't our spy found out anything? Are you sure your _lord_ hasn't called you?"

Severus glared; of course he hadn't been called.

"Four days after capturing The-Boy-Who-Lived, and you haven't been invited to the torture sessions?" Mad Eye taunted. "I find that hard to believe. Albus, he should be questioned—"

Severus abruptly stood up, his hand reaching for his wand. Mad Eye mirrored the actions.

"Don't you even suggest—" Severus started.

Albus interrupted him, "Now, boys…"

But that was not the reason why Severus stopped speaking. A sharp pain in his arm caused him to grab his dark mark. Every part of his self was being called away.

Instinctively, Severus looked towards the Headmaster. "It's time," he said.

Just before apparating away, Severus saw Albus stand up and move towards him. "Severus," he called. But in the next moment, Severus was gone.

xxxxx

Thankfully, Severus had apparated into his potions lab, just as he had expected. The Dark Lord often did this to give Severus extra time to gather interesting potions for the latest torture sessions. Not knowing how much time he had, he focused on preparing the most vital elements to his plan.

It appeared as though Severus was still in good favor with the Dark Lord. He had unlimited access to the laboratory—which was basically his after all. Not only was there top of the line equipment, he also had access to many of the world's rarest ingredients. The stockroom held years of work, not only his but other Potion Masters as well. With the exception of a small stock within the Dark Lord's private chambers, Severus was fairly certain this one location provided all of the evil wizard's potions.

As he set up his strongest blasting potion, Severus realized he was going to miss this lab… perhaps not as much as the Dark Lord… but he had always loved brewing, regardless of the nature of the potion.

After the potion was set up—with a spell released trigger—Severus took some time to stock his robes with a few healing potions. They had to be mild, in order to be overlooked by most standard detection spells. He had no delusions of healing himself in order to survive… but his one hope was having a chance to pass them along to the boy.

Harry had most likely been tortured for the past few days—but kept alive and healed. It would now be Severus' turn to torture and break the boy—for the Dark Lord's pleasure. But Severus knew Harry had to be in relatively good condition in order to "survive" the Dark Lord's special curse. So while, no doubt, Severus would be left dying, Harry would be in an acceptable condition and the mild healing potions would give the boy an extra kick to help him escape.

Yet, the whole plan relied on the idea that the Dark Lord would leave Severus to die in front of Harry. It was Severus' belief that the evil wizard would. In fact, he was betting his life, as well as the boy's, that the Dark Lord would do just that.

Fully stocked with twice as many healing potions as Harry could possibly metabolize, Severus moved on to the dark potions. It was then that he heard a knock at the door.

"Enter," Severus responded.

Lucius entered, looking a bit flushed, as if he'd run all the way to the lab. "You have ten minutes," he said.

"I assume I will be torturing the Potter boy," Severus said offhand, as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"Yes," Lucius replied. "Our Lord has requested that you be creative. He's rather tired of the usual methods."

"I'm sure our Lord will not be bored."

Neither man spoke while Severus continued to gather up potions. Severus was beginning to feel a bit awkward with Lucius watching him.

"Severus," Lucius said; he sounded a bit uneasy. "The Dark Lord has given Draco a task." Lucius shifted nervously. "He is supposed to kill—"

"Is this something you should be telling me?" Severus asked calmly. He knew Lucius would ignore the warning.

"If he's caught…" Lucius trailed off.

"Will I watch out for him?"

Lucius sighed. "I don't want his education to suffer. And if he were sent to… well you know."

Severus did know. Lucius' little stint in Azkaban had strongly affected the man. And Severus couldn't blame him… if Albus hadn't vouched for Severus…he shuddered at the thought.

Grabbing one last potion, Severus stopped to address his friend directly. "Lucius, I give you my word, again. I will do everything in my power to protect my godson."

"Even if it compromises your position with Dumbledore?"

"It wouldn't… the old man is too trusting. You know that."

Lucius nodded, obviously feeling a lot better than he had before.

Severus felt bad about that. He never meant to go against his longtime friend when he returned to Albus, and many times he wished he could have risked asking Lucius to follow him.

Quickly changing the subject, Lucius said, "I'm sure your task tonight will be easy. The Potter boy is nearly broken. It's a pity we couldn't torture him longer."

And now Severus remembered why he never attempted to bring Lucius back to the light. He still wondered how a man could torture a boy the same age as his own son, while Severus himself felt nauseous thinking about it.

"The boy's lost his cocky look," Lucius continued. "I always looked forward to wiping that smile off his face."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Indeed," he concurred.

"What's the matter with you?" Lucius asked, "You seem pensive."

Severus held his breath. Was he really that obvious? Quickly thinking, he came up with a response. "It's been four days since the boy was taken."

"Ah, yes. Well, I haven't heard anything negative," Lucius assured him.

"I suppose I'll soon find out for sure," Severus replied.

"It's time," Lucius said. "We should go. No need to be late."

"Right."

Lucius clapped a hand down on his shoulder. Despite himself, Severus felt comforted by the small reassurance.

xxxxx

The meeting started out as it normally did, the Dark Lord shouting at and cursing various failures. Two key features were Crabbe and Goyle Senior, paying for their sons' inability to procure Harry's wand. The boys were unable to suffer the Dark Lord's wrath, having been sent to Azkaban—Severus wondered which punishment was worse.

Next, the Dark Lord asked for updates on several of his current projects. Overall, the mood at the meeting was quite pleasant—all things considering. Plans were going as expected. The Dark Lord was pleased… that meant good tidings for the Death Eaters. Well, most of them.

When the boy was finally brought out, the mood was lifted even higher. It made Severus want to retch on the spot. The feeling of a sick, twisted excitement towards coming torture was tangible in the room.

Catching sight of Harry, Severus almost panicked. The boy's eyes were empty, resigned. It was apparent by how he was lead into the room that he couldn't walk on his own. Severus was beginning to wonder if he was too late. He never considered that the boy might not mentally survive.

However, as soon as Harry noticed Severus, hope filled the boy's eyes. Without thinking, Harry had lurched in Severus' direction. _There's still fight left in him_, Severus sighed. At the same time, he thanked the gods that his life did not depend on the boy's discretion. He often wondered what was Potter was thinking?

xxxxx

At the moment Harry could feel Voldemort infecting his mind, he tried desperately to push him out.

"Severus," Voldemort said in a warning tone, "when I gave you permission to train the boy, I specifically instructed you to keep him weak."

"The boy possesses a natural talent," Snape said meekly from his place in the circle of Death Eaters. Then he quickly added, "No doubt transferred from you."

Voldemort looked impatient, ready to curse someone. Harry misinterpreted the evil wizard's demeanor and suddenly thought about Snape's comment. _Does Voldemort see through Snape's lie? I'm no good at Occlumency._

Harry could feel Voldemort's twisted sense of joy. The evil wizard was breaking through his defenses and he knew it.

Outside of the silent battle, Snape continued to speak. "Of course, I've lead Harry to believe all along that he was weak. Soon, My Lord, the boy will lose his confidence and open up his mind completely."

_Stop, Snape, please. He'll find out you're lying. I'm not strong enough. I know I'm not strong enough,_ Harry thoughts pleaded.

And suddenly Voldemort was there, listening to everything. Harry hadn't even noticed his presence until his awful cackling filled his mind.

Outwardly, the room was deathly silent, until Voldemort spoke. "Stupid little boy, no one lies to Lord Voldemort."

"Hah, see that's where you're wrong," Harry said in a cocky tone. He didn't know why he continued with the façade. Inside he was clearly terrified, and Voldemort knew it. Oh, how the evil wizard knew it. Harry'd long since given up on being brave, silently pleading for death. But, now, with Snape there… he had to be brave and so he continued, "Why, my name is Neville Longbottom. You see we were testing my Polyjuice potion, worked quite well, don't you think? Professor Snape might give me an Outstand-"

"_Crucio_," Voldemort said calmly, as if he were ordering pickles on a sandwich.

As his body jerked under the pain of the _Cruciatus_, Harry could tell that both of his wrists had snapped easily as they hung from the invisible bonds.

"Let's see how cocky you are after you spend an eternity begging for death," Voldemort taunted after he lifted the curse. Internally, Harry gasped, _what do you mean?_

_Oh I have great plans for you, death would be too merciful,_ Voldemort ridiculed Harry in his mind. _No, I will suck out your soul and keep you forever trapped in a wasteland. You will never die, nor truly live._

"Oh, yeah right," Harry replied. "And how will you manage that?"

"A curse, just like the dementor's kiss." Voldemort taunted, clearly pleased with himself. "And I will keep you on hand for whenever I want, making sure that you spend the rest of eternity in agony."

_Oh Merlin that sounded bad_. But at that moment, he suddenly remembered a conversation that seemed ages ago. Back when he was deaged to five, what did he say? Oh yes, _perhaps when Voldemort is looming over me, ripping out my soul, someone will have the decency to tell me about it._ Snape's befuddled look had a new meaning. Harry knew he should be angry over it, but in the end, the image of Snape's mouth hanging open amused him.

_I should be scared. Is this what it's like to lose your mind?_

Again, Voldemort's cackle filled the room, snapping him back to reality. Without warning, the evil wizard rushed to him, grabbing Harry around the neck.

"Would you like to see?" Voldemort asked, in an uncharacteristicly pleasant voice. The tone, out of Voldemort's mouth, was absolutely terrifying, but Harry didn't have the chance to contemplate it.

Without warning, the room grew dark, just before Harry felt something—like evil tendrils—grabbing at his very soul. No amount of struggling made any difference. The next thing he was aware of was pain. In and out of his body, worse than anything he had felt before. And all around him, he saw red, like he was surrounded by fire. Panicked, he tried to move, but realized his body was nothing.

Before he knew it, he was back in the room filled with Death Eaters. He was screaming, loudly. Quickly compensating, he clamped his mouth shut. Thankfully, Voldemort had moved away from him and the first thing Harry saw was Snape.

Again, laughter filled the room.

Fear flooded back into him, so quickly Harry thought he might sick up. But Snape was there—he knew the man would protect him. He wouldn't let Voldemort do that. At the very least, Snape could kill him and save him from an eternity of suffering.

"That's not such a good idea there, Voldy," Harry said, surprised at his own bravado. He didn't know where his confidence was coming from. "It's better to make sure things are good and dead. I made the mistake—"

Harry was cut off before he could speak further as another _Crucio_ was sent his way. He searched his thoughts, looking for place to hide from the pain.

But then, the curse was lifted and Harry found himself laughing. He was definitely going insane. _Why was he laughing? No he wasn't laughing, that was Voldemort—_

"Looking for a place to hide, my dear boy?" the evil wizard taunted, "You will have no where to go when I'm done with you."

"Snape?!" Harry cried out. He was looking around the room, but he suddenly couldn't find the man. Harry instantly regretted doing so. _I am so stupid!_ He was going to betray the man—Voldemort didn't even need Legillamency. Again, he tried to empty his mind, not that it made much of a difference. But he desperately wanted to protect Snape. If Voldemort found out Snape was a spy, it would be his fault.

Voldemort's cackle filled the room. "Congratulations, Severus, you've gotten Harry to trust you," Voldemort snidely remarked. "Just like that old codger, Dumbledore. He actually thinks you're on his side. As if I could be so blind." Voldemort's lips twisted into a sickening smile. "What a wonderful present. Now I get to see you break him. Please come forward."

Snape did as he was told and stepped out from the ring of death eaters. Harry's eyes darted over to the Potions Master. Again he was reassured by the man's presence. He tried not to stare; he tried to be impartial. Yet, he knew that if he wasn't bound, he would have sprinted over to the man and clung on tightly.

"Ah, the little boy is scared," Voldemort taunted.

"Feeling big and powerful, Voldy?" Harry taunted back. "So you've managed to scare a sixteen-year-old after a couple of _Cruciatus_ curses." _And sucking out my soul…_ "Hell, I'm eleven. If you were eleven, I bet I could kick your arse. Well, actually, I've already defeated you when I was eleven." Harry knew he was rambling, if only to postpone the inevitable. But as long as he could talk—or was allowed to talk—he would. "Oh, and don't forget the time I was a baby—even at the height of your power, I defeated you. So, ha, what if I'm a little scared?" _Well, terrified…_ "Either way, I've bested you. No matter what you do to me, you will always remember who got the better of you."

"Severus," Voldemort yelled. Inwardly, Harry giggled; he was annoying the big bad wizard. _Yes, I'm losing it._

Snape stepped forward and raised his wand. Harry couldn't help but wonder, _would Snape actually hurt him?_ He knew Snape wouldn't hurt him, if there was any other choice, but he willed him to. If he was going to be able to pass off being the obedient spy, he would have to do as he was told. _But what if Snape didn't… Voldemort would know he was a spy! _Harry pulled against the invisible bonds that held him to the wall, despite the shooting pain in his wrists. He wanted to break free, to help Snape—if only he could distract Voldemort, maybe Snape could get away. He was resolved; he couldn't let another man die for him. Too many people wasted their lives to save him. Not Snape— he couldn't lose Snape.

And then, Harry remembered Voldemort's plan…. _An eternity_… _Just kill me Snape, please, and be done with it_. Even then, Snape would be punished; in any case, things would go bad. And Harry wanted to be rid of it, rid of it all.

He thought back to the day when he said, "But I'm Harry, just Harry." And at the time, he meant it—he was eleven and naïve. He didn't know anything about the Boy-Who-Lived—he could just be a boy. Abnormal, yes—hated by his relatives, of course… but no matter. If he could have just died, then—

Voldemort cackled again, the shrill voice filled Harry's head until he thought he might snap because of it. He had a weak grasp of sanity as it was.

Snape raise his wand, ready to strike. Harry closed his eyes tightly, waiting for some painful curse to fly his way.

"_Expelliarmus_," he heard Snape shout.

Shocked, Harry opened his eyes just in time to see Voldemort fall backwards and his wand clatter to the floor. Harry smiled to himself, filled with pride—Snape's _Expelliarmus_ was very powerful. And the look on Voldemort's face was priceless. Too bad he'd never live to tell Ron and Hermione about it.

However, the moment passed quickly, several death eaters shouted their own _Expelliarmus_ at Snape. The Potion Master was tossed through the air several feet, only to collide sharply with the wall. His wand fell quietly at Harry's feet.

Severus stood up quickly, just as Voldemort regained possession of his wand.

Author's Note:

Sorry about leaving you with another cliffhanger… sort of. Please leave a review. (I hoped you all liked the chapter…)


	21. The Escape

If you tried to read this within the first five hours of posting, sorry about the technical difficulties thing… ha, ha, I found a sneaky way around the problem and if you're reading this, than it worked.

Warning: Torture and death in this chapter.

Chapter 21

The Escape

xxxxx

For the first time, Harry fully understood why Voldemort was the most feared wizard of his time. The anger—hatred—the Dark Wizard projected was tangible. It radiated from him in waves, causing the circle of death eaters to scramble back. For his part, Snape stood without fear—or so it appeared—as Voldemort descended on him.

"_Crucio_," Voldemort spat. Instantly, Snape was on the ground writhing in pain. He valiantly held back his screams, allowing only a moan to escape him. Harry had never seen a man subjected to the _Cruciatus_ for so long. When the curse was finally lifted, he worried about the man's sanity.

It took a while, but Snape finally moved, pushing his body up on a shaky set of legs. He stood, as tall as his battered body would allow. His pain was evident, but he didn't show any fear.

Suddenly, from somewhere in the structure, an explosion was heard. It must have been strong, because the low rumble shook the walls. Everyone stood stock still, many staring nervously at Voldemort.

A small—but very evident—smirk crossed Snape's lips.

Voldemort turned and pointed towards a random Death Eater at the door. "You," he shouted, sending a spark from his wand. "Go, see what is happening. In his anger, those simple words seemed like a horrible curse. Needless to say, that Death Eater sprinted from the room.

Meanwhile, since Voldemort's back was turned, Severus started to limp over towards his wand. It was a rather pitiful effort and no one bothered to stop him. Before he reached his destination, Voldemort turned and fixed Snape with a glare that made Harry shudder. The boy barely saw the wizard's wand move before Snape was once again writhing on the ground.

This time, when the curse was lifted, Snape's recovery took much longer. But the stubborn man did try to stand. In an instant, Voldemort was crouched on the ground, right at Snape's side. With a flick of his wand, Snape was flipped on his back. Volemort reached up his bony fingers and pinned Snape's eye open.

"_Legilimens_," Voldemort hissed.

Snape's feet twitched as he sucked in a breath of air. The rest of the struggle wasn't evident to those watching, but Harry had some vague idea of the mental battle Snape must be fighting.

After a couple of minutes of this, some of the Death Eaters relaxed a bit, feeling safe enough to move closer together. _Wimps_, Harry thought.

Without warning, Voldemort was on his feet and once again cursing Snape. He shouted out curse after curse in a rapid, unrelenting fashion. Many of them Harry had never heard before. The result was evident, though, as Snape's blood began to pool around his body. All through the torture, though, the man didn't cry out, other than a few muffled moans. By the time Voldemort finally stopped, Harry's face was streaked in tears.

The evil wizard spoke quietly, but his voice carried. "You will die knowing that your plan failed, Severus. I will still use the boy for my curse. The Ferratilis Potion will be completed. Soon the world will be mine and it will have been you who helped me most."

When the Dark Lord looked up, the group of Death Eaters visibly quailed. The man who had been sent to check on the explosions looked ready to soil himself.

"It-it was the potions lab. And the—"

Voldemort raised his wand and the man was silenced.

"Remove them first," their master spat. The order wasn't directed at anyone in particular, so no one moved. "Now!" And suddenly every Death Eater was scrambling to obey. The lucky ones, the one who had Snape levitated and the other who held Harry behind the neck, were allowed to direct them out of the room. As they were led down the hall, Harry could hear Voldemort yelling orders.

Unfortunately, Harry was shoved out first, so he was unable to turn around and check on Snape. As they walked down the hall, their two captors were arguing.

"Should we up them in separate cells?"

"We should just put them together."

"But what if they're supposed to be separated?" Harry didn't think these men seemed all that intelligent. He almost opened his mouth to make his own suggestion… _Voldemort wants you to let us go._

"The Dark Lord didn't say."

"Well, if he wanted them separated, you can be the one to suffer."

"Should we check Snape's robes?"

"The Dark Lord will be expecting us back."

"But what if Snape's got something important?"

"And what if we're late getting back to the meeting?" Harry noticed the man beside him shudder.

At the room, Harry was flung inside, the force strong enough to make him fall painfully to the ground. Moments later, Snape was levitated in and dropped as well. The door was flung shut and locked, but Harry didn't care. He slowly crawled over to Snape, his knees and wrists protesting sharply.

"Snape!" Harry whispered urgently. The man's eyes were closed and Harry was terrified that he might discover Snape to be dead already. "Snape," Harry said a bit louder. He rested a hand lightly on the man's chest. Every bit of Snape's exposed skin was bruised or bleeding. "Snape, please," Harry begged.

Snape's eyes fluttered open. "Potter," he said—his voice labored and raspy.

"Snape?"

"My robes," Snape fumbled around, trying to find something. He pulled out a potion. "I'm sorry; it's only a weak healing draught. I thought they would search me."

"It's okay," Harry responded, more afraid now. Snape sounded so different; the man would never talk like this. He wanted his snarky Potions Master back, barking orders.

"Drink, Potter," Snape snapped.

"You need it more than me," Harry protested.

Strange enough, Snape laughed, a coughing weak laugh, but a laugh none the less. "Potter," Snape explained, "I'm well beyond that healing draught's capabilities. It would only serve to postpone the inevitable. Now drink."

"Please," Harry begged, holding out the vial.

"Potter!"

When Snape opened his mouth, Harry took the opportunity to poor the potion in his mouth. He almost panicked when Snape began coughing violently.

"Potter," Snape snapped. The man's eyes were fixed in his regular glare, but Harry was sad to note that it didn't hold the same power. With a shaky hand, the man pulled out another vial. "Drink," Snape commanded.

This time, Harry did as he was told. Soon thereafter, Snape had another vial thrust into Harry's hands. The boy rolled his eyes and drank the second potion.

When Snape pulled out a third, Harry protested, "Your turn, Snape."

"Potter!" Snape warned.

"I'm sorry, sir, but there's nothing you can do. I won't drink another one unless you do too." Feeling brave, Harry held the vial to Snape's lips. Slowly, he poured the potion into the man's mouth.

They continued this process until Harry was feeling a bit nauseous. A lot of Harry's pain dissipated markedly, although his wrists still hurt. Snape looked a little better; at least his hands shook less when he reached around in his robes.

"All right, Harry," Snape said. "You don't have much time." He pulled out a necklace from his robes. It had a small golden serpent hanging from it. "Put this on."

"What is it?" Harry asked, as he did what he was told.

"A portkey."

Harry quickly tried to pull it back over his head, afraid he'd disappear any moment, leaving Snape behind. But the necklace had shrunk around his neck, fitting too tightly to be pulled over his head.

"You can't take it off, now," Snape explained. "And it won't work until you get out of the Dark Lord's wards." Snape held up a green wand.

Harry recognized it instantly. "A Wheezes joke wand?"

"It opens most simple locks," Snape explained. "Now, you need to take corridors that lead down and to the right. If you see someone, hide and wait. They should be distracted for a while."

"Wait, but you're coming with me."

"Harry, I can't stand."

"But—"

"No. Now, shut up and listen. Once you get to the underground tunnel, I want you to run as fast as you can. Eventually, you'll get to a ladder. Climb up and continue running. Once you get past the wards, the portkey will work on its own."

"I'm not leaving you," Harry responded.

"Potter, don't be an idiot!"

Harry ignored the man and crawled over to position himself in front of Snape's head. With his broken wrists, he reached to hold Snape under the armpits. He attempted to pull the man up. "Get up, Snape!" Harry cried. With all of his strength, he tried to pull Snape up, but his wrists screamed in agony. Even if it wasn't excruciating, it was unlikely Harry would be able mange Snape's weight. "Please, get up," he continued to plead, "I won't leave you."

"Harry," Snape said in a hoarse whisper. He reached behind his head and weakly pushed Harry away. "Harry, go. You must go… save yourself."

Harry bent down and wrapped his arms around Snape's face, giving the man a light hug. "No, please. I don't want to lose you."

Snape grabbed Harry by the scruff of his pajama top. "Potter, go. If you play the hero, my death will mean nothing. The Dark Lord will complete his curse as soon as he can. Now, get out."

"I'm sorry, Snape," Harry cried.

"It's. Not. Your. Fault!" Snape snapped. He thrust the green wand into Harry's hand. "Now go!"

After a moment of hesitation, Harry stood. Vaguely he started to obey, but he planned to keep an eye open for some way to take Snape with him. He walked over to the door. Feeling awkward, he held up the wand. Pointing at the door, he gave it a flick.

He was surprised when he saw the heavy handle move; he hadn't expected the wand to actually open the door. His surprise quickly turned to fear as he saw a man entering the room. Hurriedly, Harry hid the wand up his sleeve.

Lucius didn't give Harry a moment's glance as he pushed the boy roughly to the ground. "Severus, you idiot!" he shouted.

Harry slowly got to his feet. He wondered what he should do—what he could do—to help Snape.

"Get up, Severus," Lucius commanded coolly.

"You know I can't," Snape responded.

Casually, the man leaned over and grabbed Snape by the arm. Positioning his feet squarely on the ground, Lucius pulled Snape up quickly.

Snape groaned in pain, but Lucius ignored him. "Come," he commanded, pulling Snape towards the door.

Without much choice, Snape followed, his feet moving only to keep himself from falling. Once he reached the door, however, Snape stopped. Holding onto the doorjamb, he refused to move.

"Not without the boy," Snape said. Lucius gave Snape a hard look. To which Snape added, "I saved your son."

Lucius glared. "That boy is not your son," he spat.

Snape's face held a look Harry'd never seen on the man before. It was almost a silent plea.

"Fine," Lucius responded. "But he's got to keep up. And if you die, I'm bringing the boy back."

"Potter," Snape called. Instantly, the boy was at his side. Somehow, Snape managed to cling to the boy protectively, while using the small child as a crutch at the same time.

Without hesitating, Lucius continued to roughly pull Snape down the hall. His pace was anything but sympathetic to the two wounded individuals. Harry wasn't about to complain, though, lest he get left behind. Obviously, Snape had similar ideas. Harry almost said something, when they chose a stairway that led up. He didn't, though, when a strong feeling told him to keep his mouth shut.

Harry nearly screamed when a couple of men walked out from a door. At first they looked confused and then they reached towards their wands. Lucius was faster, though, and both men were on the ground before either could utter a word.

Without hesitation, they continued on. Harry stepped carefully over the men's bodies, in case one might not be completely sedated. Although Harry had a sickened feeling that both were dead, even though he hadn'tcaught what Lucius had said.

At the end of the hall, they reached a room that looked strangely normal. It was obviously an office—fit for a wizard, of course—with parchment, quills, old tomes, and various wizarding gadgets. There was even a magical plant on the man's desk, complete with silver colored flowers. Next to it was a framed picture of both Narcissa and Draco, standing regally in fancy garments. The fire was burning warmly; all in all, the room looked quite comfortable—not really something one would expect to find in the heart of Voldemort's lair.

Lucius walked over to the fire and threw some floo powder in. "Malfoy Manor," he directed. And then turning to Snape, he said, "You first."

"The boy comes with me," Snape replied, pulling Harry towards the Floo.

"Of course," Lucius replied as he and Snape stepped in.

Falling through several gates, injured and sq ueezed tightly by Snape's side, was a rather unpleasant feeling. Both of them had difficulty landing properly and, instead, fell to the ground.

After a moment's rest, Snape slowly rolled to his hands and knees as he attempted to crawl away. Harry scrambled to his feet and tried to help Snape up. Being too weak, there really wasn't much he could do.

"Lucius has the anti-portkey wards; as well," Snape reflected calmly as if commenting on the decorum.

"Should we try to get away, before he gets here?"

"No, we can trust him."

"Are you sure?" Harry replied. "Because…" he trailed off. He wasn't so sure he could say it right now. Over the past few days, Harry'd gathered quite a lot of evidence to prove otherwise. Painful evidence. Memories he was trying desperately to ignore at the moment.

Lucius stepped through the Floo. He ignored Snape and Harry and started calling for house elves. When the first one arrived, he commanded, "Go to Hogwarts and retrieve my son, now." To the second, he said, "Tend to this man's wounds."

Quickly, the elves moved to comply as Lucius left the room. Harry was startled when the elf levitated Snape's body.

At the same time, Snape had reached out and grabbed Harry by the upper arm. "Stay with me," he commanded.

Harry nodded; he never intended to do otherwise. He had to sprint in order to keep up with the elf and Snape's floating form. His legs protested at the movement. Even though his body was feeling much better after the healing potions, he still felt extremely tired.

Snape was deposited on a large four-poster bed in what appeared to be a guest room. In no time at all, the elf went to work, cleaning and sealing wounds, as well as making the man drink a plethora of potions. Harry sat back and watched, hoping he could do more. When the elf started to open the front of Snape's robes, Harry attempted to look away. He knew the proud man wouldn't want him to see. But he couldn't take his eyes off the marred skin.

Just then, the elf disappeared.

In its absence, Snape pulled himself up to a sitting position. The action left him coughing. Harry instinctively came closer, wishing a pat on the back would make things better, but Harry knew this wasn't just a normal cough. He was scared to notice that Snape had coughed up blood.

Catching his breath, Snape casually sifted through the supplies the elf had brought. Selecting something, he said, "Potter, come."

Opening the canister, Snape gathered a bit of the paste on his thumb. When Harry was near enough, he started to smooth some over the boy's brow.

"You're hurt worse that I am," Harry protested. He'd hit his head days ago; the bruise was healing fine on its own.

"My injuries require skills higher than my own," he replied. "Show me your wrists."

"I think they're broken," Harry said, as he lifted them up. "But are you going to be okay?"

Snape grabbed the left one and began rubbing the paste into the bruises. Harry winced a little at the rough handling, but soon the pain started to lessen—a little. "Perhaps I will live," Snape said indifferently, "if I see a proper healer."

The elf popped back into the room. "Master Lucius is wanting you to come," he said.

The elf moved forward to levitate Snape again, but the man waved him off. "I'll walk," he said. Harry strongly doubted that that would be a very good idea, but he wasn't about to tell Snape. Instead, he ran over to the man's side to offer as much support as he could. He was glad that Snape didn't protest, but, by the amount of weight he ended up carrying, Harry was sure Snape had no other choice.

Together, they shuffled their way to a grand staircase. Harry almost laughed at Draco's befuddled look when he noticed Snape and Harry.

"Father, what's going on?" he asked in alarm. Narcissa was there too, looking rather worried.

"You have five minutes," Lucius informed his family. "If you have something important you want to keep, go get it. We will not be returning."

"What?!" Draco shouted.

"Draco," Lucius snapped. "I don't have time for this. Five minutes." Turning to Snape he continued, "Severus, you need to decide where you're going. I'm not dragging you with me."

Harry couldn't help but notice that Lucius' family was still loitering around, looking confused and a bit frightened.

"Draco," Lucius snapped again. Seeing the boy take an involuntary step backwards, the man's anger seemed to wane. He walked over to his son and put a hand on his shoulder. "Draco, son… I've—" Lucius stopped talking and grasped his arm, Snape too tensed. "He's calling."

Immediately there after, Harry clutched his head—the pain was intense. So much so, it caused him to fall to his knees. Snape fell after him, hissing in pain from the sudden movement.

"He's angry," Harry gasped.

"He's here already," Snape tacked on. To add emphasis to his statement, the door banged loudly, as if victim to a strong blast. Snape tried to help Harry stand up, when he too, couldn't manage on his own. "Occlude, Potter," Snape snapped.

Harry immediately did as he was told and his efforts actually seemed to make a difference. With his head clearer, he was able to stand up and tried to help Snape do the same.

"Draco," Lucius directed, as he pulled Snape to his feet. Draco wandered over, and Snape's right arm was unceremoniously thrust over the boy's shoulder. "Take them down to the emergency floo. Watch out for your mother."

"Wait," Draco cried. "You're coming too right."

"As soon as I can," Lucius responded. Even Harry could tell it was a lie.

"But Father—" Another loud bang sounded at the door. This time, the force was strong enough to shake the whole manor.

"Draco, take care of your mother," Lucius said, reaching out a hand to brush Draco's face. The blond nodded in assent, but still looked reluctant to leave. Lucius pulled out a wand from an inner robe pocket and handed it to Snape. "Take care of my family." Lucius looked towards his wife; she nodded in response to an unspoken message.

"Come, Draco," she directed cordially, as if there was nothing going on at all.

Following his mother, Draco led Snape to a hidden staircase. Snape had a hold of Harry with his free hand. The grasp was actually tight enough that it hurt, but Harry didn't know if that was due to Snape or if his arm was injured. As they left the room, Harry turned back to see Lucius pull out his familiar wand.

The group was able to move with a surprising amount of speed. Draco, with his mind set, was able to pull Snape along with determination similar to that of his father. They only paused momentarily when another blast sounded; no doubt Voldemort had broken his way into the manor. Harry was beginning to wonder when they would finally make it to their destination. He was feeling winded and ready to fall to the ground. To his right, he was sure Snape was feeling poorer. He expected the man to pass out any minute. To make matters worse, Harry was sure that Voldemort was gaining on them.

Finally, they made it to a small room at the end of the hall. All it had was a lightly burning fire. Draco dragged them over to it, and took a jar of powder off of the mantel.

"Where should we go, Mother?" he asked in a shaky tone.

"Severus, take care of my son," the woman responded.

Quickly, Draco turned around. "Mum?" Looking up towards his mother, Draco could see Voldemort himself stalking down the halls.

Narcissa had her wand raised, saying all sorts of protective and shielding spells, everything short of shutting the door. Harry was confused about that, until he realized the door wouldn't make any different anyway.

Suddenly, Severus' reached over to the jar of floo powder in Draco's hands. Without turning, Snape threw the powder over his shoulder and into the fire. "Albus' office, Howarts," he said.

Voldemort was nearer now. Two words, a swish of his wand, and a small amount of greenlight and the woman's body fell limply to the floor. _Her death was rather meaningless,_ Harry thought—_she hadn't really bought them any time._

From off to the side, Harry could hear Draco screaming. Not knowing what else to do, Harry tensed, waiting for death or perhaps some painful curse. He hadn't expected to fall backwards, but since Snape was, his little body followed.

Traveling through the floo with three individuals was much worse than two, especially since it felt as though his feet remained at Malfoy Manor. When his back landed on cold stones, Harry was surprised to look up and notice some of Dumbledore's odd trinkets. Before he could really gain a sense of the room, though, the necklace began to heat up and he felt the familiar sensation of a portkey. He briefly wondered why Hogwarts, of all places, didn't have anti-portkey wards. He fell again, onto another hard stone surface, but this time, he felt a little warmer. Looking around, Harry realized he was in Grimmauld Place, the basement to be exact. Near where his cot used to be…

"Mother!" Draco was still crying. The boy leapt to his feet, ready to run forward to his mum, only to notice he was somewhere new. "We have to go back!" he yelled. "We have to save her! Mother!"

Trying to get up, Harry realized he was feeling woozy and wondered if he had hit is head. Instead of standing, he decided to roll over and check on Snape. The man had his eyes closed. "Snape," Harry called, gently prodding the man's shoulder. He became a little rougher, though, when Snape didn't respond. He started to yell the name, in a panic.

He never noticed the others enter the room, until strong arms were prying him away from the Potions Master.

"Ssshh, Harry it will be okay," Remus comforted him.

Harry fought against the man, until he saw Madame Pomfry kneel down in front of Snape. He slightly relaxed, then, content to stand and watch. Harry wasn't given the chance, though, as Remus took the opportunity to fully scoop the boy up into his arms. Again, Harry tried to fight back, but his attempts were much weaker now.

"Snape," Harry cried.

"He's going to be okay," Remus responded.

Harry doubted the man was being honest with him. Even if Remus wasn't meaning to lie to him, he knew there was no way the man could know for sure if Snape was all right or not. But in any case, his words were reassuring, and Harry found himself relaxing again. He didn't understand why, but he was just so tired. Harry fought to stay awake, listening intently for any mention of Snape's condition. As it was, all he could hear was Draco's cries. He was shocked to see, though, that the boy was being comforted by Molly Weasley.

He couldn't watch too long, because Remus was carrying him up the stairs. Squirming, Harry tried to get away; he didn't want to leave Snape behind. Remembering that, Harry shuddered, _he almost had_.

Remus looked back down at him, "Just calm down, Harry, everything is going to be okay, now."

At those words, Harry could have cried. As it was, he was just too tired. He did calm down, though, resting his eyes until giving in completely to sleep.

xxxxx

Harry didn't know how long he slept, but when he woke up, he found himself in a hospital bed. The room, however, was unmistakably still in Grimmauld Place. To be more exact, it was the study that had somehow been remodeled to resemble Hogwart's hospital wing. Earlier in his life, Harry would have considered this room to be his worst nightmare. But at the moment, it was heaven.

On his right, Remus sat close, with his head lying on the bed. The man was fast asleep, with his hand resting on Harry's shoulder. Off to his left, he could hear the Headmaster and Madame Pomfry discussing Snape's condition.

"It doesn't look good," Madame Pomfry explained. "There's nothing more I can do, however. He's had his limit on healing draughts. Now all I can do is wait and see if his body takes over. If he lives until the morning, then I will be able to give him more potions."

Unable to prevent it, Harry fell asleep once more. When he woke up next, the room was now dark, but a faint glow allowed him to see well enough—even without glasses. He tried to remember when he last saw those, but decided not to think about it. Remus was still sitting with him, fast asleep. Madame Pomfrey was gone now, but Harry could make out the Headmaster's form on the far side of Snape's bed.

This time, Harry had the strength to sit up. Quietly, he tried to creep out of the bed, hoping not to disturb Remus' werewolf senses. Once he was on the ground, Harry realized the man must be drugged, because he hadn't even stirred.

Walking over to Snape, Harry surveyed the proud Potions Master. He sighed deeply when he became sure Snape was still alive. Looking closely at the man, guilt flooded him. _This was all my fault_, he thought. _If it weren't for me, Snape would never have been found out!_ If Snape lived, Harry didn't know what he could do to make it up to the man. _But if Snape died_… Harry shook at the thought, holding back panic and tears.

Harry reached up to touch Snape's shoulder. He didn't know if waking the man would be a good idea or not, but he suddenly wanted to see the man's glare. Snape needed to stand up and stalk out of the room. Snape needed to tell everyone that he was fine… Gently as ever, Harry let his hand settle on Snape's shoulder—he didn't know if the contact would hurt the man or not. Rethinking his plan, Harry quickly pulled his hand away.

"Harry Potter," Madame Pomfry chided. "You should be in bed."

Harry cringed at the woman's voice. She was so loud. Dumbledore had woken because of it, yet Harry noticed Remus had not… and neither did Snape.

"I want to stay with him," Harry replied, surprised at how dry and sickly his voice sounded.

"Certainly not," she continued. Coming near, she appeared ready to carry the boy physically if he refused.

Harry didn't know how to react.

"Let the boy stay," the Headmaster commanded.

"What?!" Madam Pomfry sputtered. She was momentarily off balance, but quickly her demeanor righted itself and soon she spoke in her authoritative voice. "Harry Potter is recovering from a number of injuries as well as physical, mental, and magical exhaustion. He needs to rest."

"Poppy," Dumbledore responded. "Would sitting next to Severus cause Harry further harm?"

"No, but he—"

"He can rest later."

"Albus, this is—"

"Poppy, leave him be."

The woman stood with her arms crossed, clearly displeased, but she didn't argue further. After checking Snape over, she left the room. Harry could hear her muttering as she walked down the hall.

They sat in silence for a while. Harry noticed that Dumbledore was holding Snape's hand. He vaguely wondered what the man's reaction would be to the show of affection. Perhaps Snape wouldn't want Harry to see it. Maybe Snape wouldn't want Harry to see him at all. The man looked so frail and vulnerable. But instead of shying away, Harry wanted to reach out and take the other hand. He couldn't bring himself to touch the man; he didn't want to hurt him.

"How is he?" Harry finally braved to ask.

Dumbledore paused a moment before responding. "He's, unwell. Poppy has done as much as she can, but…"

"I know," Harry whispered, sparing the man from repeating the news. For some reason, Harry was hoping to hear a different response. Surprisingly enough, what he really wanted to hear was some sugar-coated half-truth.

Harry grew quiet again, as the thought of Snape's death overwhelmed him. He noticed from Dumbledore's grasp on Snape's hand, that the thought overwhelmed the old man, too.

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry said quietly.

"Harry—"

The boy ignored him, and continued to speak. "Snape should have attacked me, or something. He could have put on a good show for Voldemort, you know. And then rescued me later. Or something… It's all my fault!"

"No, Harry," Albus responded. "It's not your fault."

Harry listened to the man; he tried to let the words sink in. He wanted to believe it wasn't his fault, but he knew the truth. There were so many things he could have done. For one, he could have been a normal sixteen-year-old boy, and stayed in his room after a nightmare. Or, in the corridor, he should have been able to outsmart Crabbe and Goyle…

"Severus came to me," Albus said, breaking the silence. Harry wondered if the man was talking to him, or if he was just reflecting. "It was after a raid, fairly bad as I recall. I'll never forget the look in his eyes. When he asked for my help, I could instantly tell he was sincere. Do you know what my initial thought was?"

Harry shrugged, but looking towards the Headmaster, he realized the question was rhetorical.

"I thought, Severus could be an amazing asset to the Order; being deep within Tom's circle. So I asked him to become a spy." Dumbledore paused. "I was prepared to coax Severus into agreeing, but I didn't have to. Severus agreed at once." The old man paused again. "He's saved so many lives."

"He saved me," Harry mused. Watching Snape's chest move slowly up and down, Harry finally felt able to reach out and hold the man's hand. Afterwards, Harry added, "I shouldn't have needed saving. I should never have gotten caught in the first place. I—"

"No, Harry," Albus said, effectively silencing the boy. "It's not your fault. You see, it was I who asked him to spy." After moving a stray lock of hair out of Snape's face, Albus continued. "Severus came to me and I sent him back… When he came to me for _help_… I sent him back to Voldemort."

Author's note: So, what do you think? (Please leave a review)


	22. Repercussions and Recovery

Previously in HP and the F. Potion: Voldemort tries to get Harry. Snape rescues him. They're at Grimmauld Place. Harry goes a bit mad and is deaged. School starts. Bad stuff happens (mean DADA teacher, etc.). Harry and Snape start to get along better. Harry's having bad dreams/visions and wanders down to see Snape. One night, Harry's captured. Snape is caught as a spy. Lucius rescues Harry and Snape—resulting in his and Narcissa's death. A battered Snape and Harry floo/portkey to Grimmauld Place, with Draco along for the ride. Pomfrey checks them over, Harry seems to be "okay," but Snape's condition is grave…

Chapter 22

Repercussions and Recovery

xxxxx

Harry woke up, his body aching. The room was now dark, save for the dim flicker from a few sconces. He was happy to note that he was still at Snape's bedside; no one had moved him while he slept. Sitting up, he stretched his neck trying to ease some of the muscles' soreness. Dumbledore was no longer sitting across from the bed, but Harry could hear his hushed voice.

"Severus will recover?" the old man asked.

"I have seen an improvement in his health," Madame Pomfrey replied. "It's small, but it's a sign that he's still fighting. I think he will pull through."

Harry sighed in relief; that certainly made him feel better. He couldn't stand it if another man died because of him. Taking a hold of Snape's hand, he watched the battered man breathe.

Suddenly, Snape's body tensed and his hand clenched down onto Harry's.

At first Harry was confused. He stood up quickly, trying to assess what was wrong with the man. The action made him dizzy, but he ignored it. On Snape's left arm, he noticed the dark mark—it seemed angry. This skin around it was red and inflamed. But by the time Harry realized what was happening, his scar flared up in pain.

"Headmaster," Harry rasped as his knees gave way.

_The next thing Harry saw was a much different scene. A ring of Death Eaters cowered around him. So consumed with hate, he couldn't utter a word. It took a while for Harry to separate his thoughts from Voldemort's. The man was so angry, it was overwhelming._

_Voldemort pursed his lips and twirled his wand. Without warning, he cursed the nearest Death Eater with the Cruciatus. The pain in Harry's scar tripled, until his head felt like it would explode. Voldemort went from one Death Eater to the next without pause. No one was spared. Soon the room filled with their screams._

"_You dare defy me?" Voldemort shouted. He raised his wand again, preparing for a second round._

"_N-no, my lord," someone dared to utter. "W-we are loyal."_

_Voldemort didn't respond—Harry could feel his body seething with anger. Again the man raised his wand; his hand trembled with fury. "Prove it," Voldemort shouted. "All of you! Go out and prove your loyalty." No one moved. "Now!" _

_All the Death Eaters scrambled to their feet. Many tripped and ran into each other as they struggled to get out the door. Voldemort stalked off behind them, ready to curse anyone who lagged behind._

Harry found himself staring up at a decorative ceiling; apparently, they were still at Grimmauld Place. His breathing was heavy and his head hurt so bad that he thought he might sick up.

"Harry," Remus called.

Harry swallowed. His throat was dry. He'd been screaming. Turning his head, he looked up at Remus. He was shocked to see how close he was to the man's face. Remus must have been holding him.

"Remus," Harry rasped. Harry looked over to Snape, to see the man still writhing in pain. The headmaster had to hold Snape's right arm down in order to stop him from clawing at his mark.

"Cut it off," Snape pleaded.

"He'll be okay," Remus comforted, tightening his hold on Harry in order to keep the boy in his arms.

Harry struggled to get away as Remus carried him across the room. Gently, Remus put Harry down on his bed. Harry tried to sit up to look around Remus hoping to catch sight of Snape.

"Harry, drink this," Remus instructed, putting a cup to Harry's lips.

Quickly, in order to appease Remus and get him out of the way, Harry drank down the cup's contents. He nearly gagged from the gross taste.

"What was that?" Harry asked.

"A Dreamless Sleep potion," Remus replied.

"What?!" Harry shouted, although his voice was still strained, so it didn't come out very strongly. "Why? I—"

"I'm sorry," Remus replied. "But you need to rest and it will keep you safe from visions."

"But what about Snape? I need to…" Harry was growing tired.

"Madame Pomfrey will take care of him," Remus said as he tucked the boy in. "You need to rest."

Harry fought to keep his eyes open. He wanted to stay awake and make sure Snape was okay. It was a fruitless effort and soon he was asleep.

xxxxx

The next morning, Harry woke up feeling groggy. It didn't take long for the panic to return to him. His head and body still ached, but he ignored the pain as he climbed out of bed. He needed to check on Snape, to make sure he was okay.

The room was empty, save Snape, who was still lying in the next bed over. Thankfully, the Potions Master was still alive. Harry crept across the room and surveyed the man's condition. Snape's left arm was now wrapped tightly in gauze; he briefly wondered if they had in fact ended up cutting off the mark… _at least it wasn't the whole arm,_ Harry shuddered.

"Potter, could you please refrain from gawking at me?" Snape drawled.

Harry smiled broadly, "You're awake!" Relief flowed through him… _Snape was alive_.

"Indeed," Snape replied. He attempted to sit up, but only managed to wince in pain. Harry moved to help, but a glare from Snape stopped him.

"Are you going to be okay?" Harry asked.

"Eventually."

Harry sighed. It took every fiber of resistance not to bend over and hug the man. Snape raised an eyebrow, as if sensing the boy's intentions.

"You should get back in bed," Snape said. "I've heard enough fussing from Madame Pomfrey to last a lifetime."

"Er…" Harry wanted to apologize. He needed to tell Snape how sorry he was for causing him to go through so much pain. But he couldn't think of what to say. After realizing he probably looked like an idiot, Harry blushed. Once again, he opened his mouth to speak, but Snape's glare made him snap it shut.

Harry had just climbed back into bed, before Madame Pomfrey came bustling in. She first rushed to Snape's side and said a few diagnostic charms. "Very good," she announced, speaking more to herself than anyone else. Pulling out a few vials from her robes, she handed them to Snape, as she ordered him to drink up. Then, without pausing, she helped him sit and pulled up his pajama top. She opened a canister of paste and began rubbing some into his marred back.

Again, Harry felt a rush of guilt. _All because of me_, Harry told himself. _Snape suffered all because of me._ He had never seen someone in so much pain before and he doubted that Snape was exaggerating. _If I hadn't been such a wimp_… Harry hoped that Snape wouldn't hate him after they were healed and back at Hogwarts. But at the moment, he couldn't figure out why Snape wouldn't hate him. After all, the man would be fine if it weren't for him.

Next, Madame Pomfrey wandered over to Harry and examined him in a manner similar to Snape. Afterwards, he was given a couple of healing potions.

"Is there anything else you two need?" Madame Pomfrey asked as she headed to the door.

"Nah," Harry shook his head. He was actually feeling a lot better. In fact, if he'd been at school, he would have asked to be released. But at the moment, he couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather be.

"I would like a private room," Snape demanded.

Harry's heart sank…_that confirms it, Snape hates me_.

Madame Pomfrey nodded, "Remus has already prepared a room for Harry." The mediwitch's face grew commanding, "But you're not to leave your bed, do you understand me Severus? You stay put; you're still not healthy enough to move around."

"Yes, fine, fine," Snape muttered. Apparently they'd discussed the topic before.

"The same goes for you Harry. Remus will come and get you after the order meeting, so you'll just have to wait until then."

"I can just—"

"No, Harry," Madame Pomfrey interrupted, "you can wait for Remus. Honestly, I don't understand you two. Even when you're hurt…" She walked out of the room, but they could still hear her grumbling down the hall.

Harry leaned back into the soft pillows. Just a few days ago, he had been resigned to die…in truth, he had wanted to. The memories made him shudder and he fought to push them back into the recesses of his mind. He was safe now; inexplicably he had been saved once again. He owed Snape so much and he wished there was a way to apologize to the man. Rolling over, Harry realized it was probably better this way. Everyone that got close to him…

"Potter," Snape snapped, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "Before you get all sulky or guilt ridden, I would like to remind you that I am a grown man. It is not so strange that I would request privacy. Furthermore," his voice became firm, "you did not force me to betray the Dark Lord, or coerce me to spy, and you most certainly didn't make me take the dark mark. None of this is your fault. I am responsible for my own decisions, do you understand?"

Harry stared at the ceiling, his mind reeling. Snape had been so blunt. It took a moment for Harry to realize that Snape expected a reply. "Er… yes, sir," he finally said. But it didn't really feel true to him… he still knew this was his fault.

"Good, now rest. Lupin should be here shortly."

Trying to do as he was told, Harry struggled to keep his mouth shut. He had so many questions. "You really are okay?" he asked, "I mean, just last night… and…" _the torture itself_, Harry wanted to add—it had looked so bad.

Snape sighed. "Yes, Harry, I will be fine."

"But you— Oh, I'm so sorry!" Harry blurted out.

"Potter," Snape growled. "Did I not say, just a moment ago, that this was not your fault? Now let it go! Must you insist on blaming yourself for everything?" Snape paused. "We will discuss your penchant for wandering around the corridors at night _alone_, another time. At the moment, it's really not all that important."

"If I hadn't—" Harry shuddered. He'd be safe in Gryffindor tower, taking classes, being a normal student.

"Postponing the inevitable," Snape replied. "The Dark Lord was centering all of his efforts on capturing you; it was only a matter of time. Albus was unwilling to— it doesn't matter, you're safe now, so rest."

"Wait, what did Dumbledore do?"

"Sleep, Potter!" Snape snapped.

Harry sat up to protest, but then the door opened.

"Harry, you're awake," Lupin commented. Harry saw Snape roll his eyes, just before he turned his attention towards Remus. "How do you feel?"

"Okay," Harry replied. Remus watched him for a moment, as if patiently waiting for him to elaborate. Harry'd forgotten what it was like to talk to Remus, how the man gave him complete attention. Suddenly, a tirade of questions came to him. Where had Remus been? What had he been up to? And he wanted to know what Dumbledore was unwilling to do… and more about Voldemort's plans. And why had Lucius saved him? But oddly enough, Harry didn't want to talk to Remus, he wanted to talk to Snape.

"Potter, we'll talk later," Snape said. Even though the words were comforting, the man's tone sounded more like he was giving out a detention.

"Come on, Harry," Remus said, "let me help you up to your room."

"I can walk," Harry said quickly, climbing out of bed—he didn't want to be carried around anymore.

In an instant, Remus was at his side, holding his arm to help steady him. All in all, Harry didn't feel all that bad, perhaps a little sore and achy. His head felt slightly dizzy, but he knew he could manage to walk on his own. Yet despite that, Harry couldn't bring himself to ask Remus to let go. He liked the support, the small amount of comfort—it confirmed the fact that he wasn't alone.

A feeling of dread filled Harry's stomach. He didn't want to be alone. For the first time in a very long time, Harry didn't want to be left alone. As the man led him up to his room, he tried to think of an excuse for Remus to stay with him.

"You're going to need to rest for the next few days," Remus said. "You're healing well, but your injuries really were quite extensive."

"They tortured me," Harry said, his tone short. He loved Remus, but something felt off with the man. Remus was treating him like a small child and it was irritating. Harry did not want or need to be coddled—as Snape would say.

Remus misinterpreted Harry's statement and pulled the boy closer to give him a half hug. "It will be okay," he said.

This made Harry angry. Nothing _would be okay, everything had changed_… but he didn't say anything. As frustrating as Remus was, Harry didn't want to be left alone. In fact, neither of them had said another word until after Harry was tucked into his bed.

"Harry," Remus said, speaking solemnly. "I need to tell you something." Harry turned his head and bit his lip. Whatever was wrong, it was serious. "Your relatives," Remus continued, "yesterday, they—"

"They died," Harry interrupted, his tone casual—he knew they were going to die.

Remus nodded, his arms held out as if to offer Harry a hug. The boy looked away; he supposed he should feel sad, angry, or guilty. But really, he felt nothing; he felt empty.

"You know," Harry said, "they never wanted me."

"Pardon?" Remus asked, sounding surprised.

Harry scowled, he was rather angry at Remus—a man who was supposedly one of his fathers best friends. Remus should have checked up on him… he should have found out about the Dursleys. Suddenly, Harry wanted to yell and rant—He wanted Remus to know… "They said I was a worthless freak and said I should be grateful that they didn't dump me at an orphanage."

"Harry, I—"

Harry cut him off, "You know, when I was little, I used to be sad about that. But now it makes sense. I mean, would you have taken me in if you knew it'd mean the death of you and your family?"

"If I could have taken you in Harry, I would have."

"Then why didn't you?" Harry asked—his voice raising. He didn't know if he really wanted to hear the answer, but he had to know.

"I tried, Merlin knows…" Remus shook his head, "but they didn't allow it, because of my _condition_. The only way I could have a child, is if I sired it myself."

"You really tried?" Harry asked.

"Well yes, of course."

Now Harry felt guilty, _again_. Remus really did try and adopt him… Harry knew shouldn't be so angry with the man. Yet, he still had a nagging feeling, something didn't add up. If Remus _really_ wanted to take him, a couple of muggles never would have stood in the way. In fact, if anyone would have walked up and offered to take him, the Dursleys would have gladly given him away. And Harry knew that it was wrong to lock up a child for days with no food. Neglect really… If Remus or Albus—or anyone from the order—had bothered to properly check on him, they'd have noticed straight away. Suddenly, Harry's breath caught… _what if they did check on me? What if they just left me there?_ Harry shuddered, the thought made him feel sick._ Does anyone really care about me? Or am I just a tool… for this stupid war. If it weren't for the prophecy, would I really matter?_

Remus put a hand on his shoulder, as if noticing Harry's distress. The action drew Harry out of his depressing thoughts and back into the present. He asked the first question that came to him, "Where am I going now?"

"I don't know," Remus replied. "But don't worry; Albus is taking care of it."

Harry snorted.

"Don't think about it right now. Things will work out."

Harry highly doubted it. He scowled into his pillow and held back any angry retorts. As mad as he felt about Remus' coddling, he didn't want to say something that would make the man leave. They continued to talk about inane things until Harry could no longer fight off sleep.

xxxxx

Harry woke up several times that night. Remus had been at his side each time and able to get him back to sleep. Harry had never woken up enough to become cognizant of his surroundings. So the next morning, when he woke up completely, he felt a lot more refreshed.

The first thing Harry was aware of was that he was warm and comfortable, but he had to use the loo. And secondly, he really didn't want to leave his warm cocoon of blankets in order to make the trek to the toilet. It took him a while, debating in his mind, until he finally decided he should just go. Standing up, he felt both sore and stiff. And he suddenly realized he didn't know where he was.

It took him a moment, standing there shivering, to fully comprehend everything that had happened over the last few days. How long had it really been? He didn't know. Suddenly, he remembered Draco and how his long time enemy had cried for his mum. Harry wondered if Draco was still lurking somewhere in Grimmauld Place—he surely hoped not. But it didn't matter now; all that mattered was going to the loo.

Shuffling over to the toilet, Harry had time to notice the fact that both his wrists were now wrapped. He hadn't noticed it yesterday, but he hadn't really paid attention to his own physical wellbeing. Mostly, he'd been concerned about Snape. The image of the man's broken body played in his mind. Harry wondered if he'd be allowed see to him.

"You're awake!" Remus exclaimed.

Harry nearly wet himself on the spot. He hadn't noticed Remus sitting in the armchair pulled up next to the bed. He felt comforted knowing someone was with him. He really didn't relish the idea of being left alone at the moment.

"Just going to the toilet," Harry replied, trying to sound casual.

Afterwards, when Harry was washing his hands, he caught sight of himself in mirror. He was surprised by how skinny and pale he was. Even after a full summer with the Dursleys, he never looked as bad as he did now.

_Summer with the Dursleys_, Harry suddenly remembered that he'd never be going back there again. Where would he go now? All of it was too much and he tried not to think about it. When Harry left the bathroom, he found not only Remus in his bedroom, but Madame Pomfrey as well.

"Back into bed with you," the mediwitch ordered. Harry groaned; he was feeling much better. Staying in bed was starting to feel ridiculous. Pomfrey picked up on Harry's hesitation and started to speak in her usual lecturing voice. "I know you feel better, Harry, but you have to remember that you were seriously injured. You need to give yourself time to properly heal."

"I was just using the loo," Harry snapped.

"And you may continue to do so," Madame Pomfrey replied, not in the least affected by Harry's temper. "As long as you understand to take it easy." She continued to stare at Harry expectantly until he finally nodded. "Good," she said, and then handed him a vial. "Now drink this. I'll be sending up some food and I expect you to eat it."

After she bustled out the door, Harry relaxed back into the pillows. He was surprised by how tired he felt; he'd only been awake for a few minutes after all.

"Are these potions laced with sedatives?" Harry asked—his tone sharp.

"No, Harry, you're tired," Remus replied, as patient as he always was. "Do you think you're up to seeing Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?"

Harry shrugged, "I guess."

Remus got up and left the room. After a moment, both Molly and Arthur Weasley entered. Harry looked up at Molly, her face filled with concern and sadness.

"Harry dear," she said as she enveloped him in a hug. "I'm so glad you're okay." She was both gentle and firm, so that Harry couldn't move away, but he wasn't hurt at all. Finally she pulled away, fluffing his pillows before she urged him to lean back and rest.

Arthur rested a hand on Harry's leg, giving an encouraging nod. Both the adults looked so serious that Harry was beginning to feel concerned.

"Remus told you about your relatives?" Arthur prompted.

Harry nodded.

"Since you are still underage," Arthur said, "you need to have an official guardian."

Again, Harry nodded. He knew all this and was getting annoyed. Right now, Harry didn't want to think about guardians and the like. He wanted to lay back and think about nothing.

"We've always thought of you as a member of our family," Arthur continued. "And perhaps we can make it a permanent arrangement."

Harry stared at them in shock; they couldn't _really_ want to adopt him, could they? _I'm such a burden… _

"What Arthur is trying to say," Molly butted in, "is that we'd like to adopt you."

Harry opened his mouth; he didn't know what to say.

Arthur held up his hand, "You don't have to decide now."

"Yes, dear, take some time to think about it," Molly said. "And remember, no matter what you decide, we will still love you."

Yet again, Harry nodded. He couldn't seem to piece together anything to say.

"We'll let you rest now," Arthur announced, pulling Molly towards the door.

Before they reached it, Harry suddenly remembered. "Mrs. Weasley?" he asked. "How are Ron and Hermione?"

"Everyone is okay. They should be in class right now, I should think."

Harry sighed in relief. So it had been just him that was captured. He had been worried, especially since Ron was gone that night. Harry opened his mouth again; he wanted to ask if they could visit. Changing his mind, he remained silent; he wasn't so sure he wanted to see them yet after all.

Arthur and Molly waited patiently for him to continue.

Harry blushed when he realized his mouth was still hanging open. Finally, he said, "Thank you."

They were only gone a moment before Remus entered again, carrying a tray of food. Harry groaned when he saw the size of the soup bowl and the huge chunk of bread. He was hungry… but surly his stomach couldn't handle _all_ that.

xxxxx

Surprisingly enough, Harry had managed to eat—at least enough to appease Remus. During the meal, Remus had also brought along a copy of the latest _Daily Prophet_. Among the headlines were "Boy Who Lived: Rescued" and "Spy Infiltrates the Death Eaters." And there were also countless stories of the subsequent attacks. It seemed that the Death Eaters had proved their loyalty to the Voldemort. Even though he shuddered as he read the articles, Harry was glad that Remus shared them. In his mind, Harry figured he had the right to know—a responsibility to know.

Harry was actually rather surprised that Remus had brought the paper. As coddling as the man had been of late, it seemed out of character. But when Harry folded up the paper and set it aside, Remus leaned in… his face full of concern and sympathy.

Harry groaned.

"Listen Harry," Remus said, ignoring Harry's reaction. "You need to talk about this."

"What is there to say?" Harry snapped.

"How do you feel?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Talk to me Harry," Remus continued, talking more patiently. "You can't hold everything in."

Harry turned away to face the far wall and kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to talk about it, not yet…maybe not ever…

Remus put a hand on Harry's shoulder and tried to make the boy face him. Harry pulled away. "Why don't you talk to me," Harry shouted. "Where have you been? What have you been up to?"

"Harry I—"

Harry rolled over to face Remus, "Let me guess, you can't talk about it can you? Well then I can't talk about anything either, so just leave me alone!" Turning away once again, Harry pulled the covers up to his shoulder and closed his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and think about nothing.

"Do you want me to leave?" Remus asked quietly, sounding sad and distant.

Harry's eyes bolted open—his body tensed. "No!" he whispered quickly.

"Alright," Remus said, patting Harry's shoulder, "I'll stay and how about I tell you some more stories about your parents, hhmm?"

Harry rolled his eyes and then shrugged.

It took Harry a long time to calm down and relax. At first, the stories seemed like painful memories of all the things he and Remus had lost. But after countless tales of pranks, marauders, and a baby Harry, they had both actually found themselves smiling.

Over the next two days, Remus never left Harry's side except for when another person came by with their adoption offer. After the Weasleys came Professor McGonagall and then Hagrid. But it didn't stop there—Madame Pomfrey, Arabella Figg, and even Kingsley Shacklebolt came by to make their offers. Harry was beginning to feel like a stray pet and wondered if there was an advertisement in the Daily Prophet. At least Fudge hadn't dropped by yet—the one benefit to staying in the Black House.

Dumbledore was the last to see him. The old man had been careful to assure Harry that it was his choice alone as to who would be his next guardian. Feeling flippant, Harry almost said he had chosen Bertie Bott, because he couldn't get enough of her beans… but Dumbledore had looked old and tired, so Harry held his tongue.

In the next moment, Harry was glad that he did. The headmaster, seeming more vulnerable than Harry had ever remembered, also offered to adopt him. All anger died on his lips as Harry saw a flicker of love in the headmaster's eyes. For all the manipulation and bad choices, Dumbledore did care about him. Keeping his mouth closed, Harry had nodded and looked away—just as he had for all the other offers. Before he left, Dumbledore had also explained to him that he had one more day to decide. Fudge was looking for an answer or soon, he'd step in.

After that, Harry feigned sleep—although he was sure Remus noticed. However, the man sat quietly, reading a book—giving him space, but never leaving his side.

Considering all the offers, Harry didn't want any of them. Sure, the Weasleys were a tempting offer, but he loved them too much. He couldn't add to the family's financial burden or put them in danger. Besides, they already had a lot of children… Figg and McGonagall, he didn't have much of a connection to. And Hagrid, well if a werewolf couldn't adopt him, than it was likely an expelled half giant wouldn't be approved either.

The only two candidates that he was more seriously considering were Dumbledore and Shacklebolt. Kingsley Shacklebolt seemed like an odd choice, simply because he hadn't had much to do with the man. But, apparently, Shacklebolt had been friends with his father. Also, the man had offered to personally train him after he got out of school, which would be very beneficial.

Dumbledore was more of his default choice. Harry didn't want to endanger anyone, but he definitely didn't want to become a ward of the ministry. Therefore, Dumbledore would do… besides it was less than a year until he was of age. Yet Harry couldn't get over his anger with the man. Dumbledore had put him in the Dursleys' care after all and why adopt him now, after all these years? Plus, could Harry ever really trust the man not to hide things from him?

All in all, Harry was feeling exceedingly frustrated by the matter the more he thought about it. Why couldn't he just take care of himself? He'd practically raised himself thus far. Why couldn't everyone leave him alone?

It was during these thoughts that Harry drifted off to sleep.

_Harry was five years old again and sitting in his cupboard. It wasn't really all that unusual of an occurrence. When he was five, he was almost always in the cupboard. Harry'd been a mischievous child and his marauder side had never truly been stamped out by the Dursleys. _

_This time, Harry was fairly content. His stockpile of food was moderate and he didn't really need to pee. Since he had recently started school, the symbols on the various cleaning bottles suddenly had new meaning to him. He sat, reciting the symbols names "B…L…E…A…C" pausing for a moment trying to figure out the last one, "H!" _

_Looking around briefly, Harry wished he had someone to share his knowledge with. Maybe a mummy or a daddy who could say "well done" and smile like other kid's mummys and daddys did._

_On cue, the latch to his door was being undone. Without thinking, little Harry pointed to the bottle, full of excitement. He opened his mouth, ready to proclaim each letter's name._

_When he looked up into Uncle Vernon's face, he kept his mouth shut. Cold, angry, loveless eyes stared back at him, just like they always looked at him. At five, Harry was still little enough that he wanted desperately to change his uncle's eyes, to have the man look at him like he did Dudley. He wanted so much to be loved._

_With a weak smile, Harry looked back and tried to appear as sweet as possible. Sometimes, in the stores, woman would look at him like he was a cute normal little boy. Uncle Vernon didn't. Instead, the man grabbed him by the hair and pulled him out of the cupboard._

"_Clean the dishes, you little freak," he bellowed. "And be quick about it! Petunia's having friends over this evening and we don't want to have you in the way."_

"_Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied as he quickly made his way to the pile of dishes. He had to climb up on an overturned bucket to reach the sink. For a minute, he nursed the sore spot on his head and let his lip pout. With company coming, there was no chance he'd get to sit outside and eat his stale bread. No chance the Dursleys would forget about him, giving him an opportunity to sneak a peek at the cartoons Dudley watched on the tele. Once the minute passed, Harry scrubbed the dishes with vigor. He was quick, trying to give himself enough time to run to the loo before he was locked in the cupboard again._

_He had the last of the dishes loaded into the washer. Being young and clumsy, he'd dripped sudsy water all over the floor. Grabbing a towel, Harry scrambled off of the bucket to clean up his mess. In his hurry, his feet slipped and he fell, banging his knees on the floor. The injury was not all that serious, but to a five-year-old boy, it sure smarted._

_Unable to stop it, Harry's eyes gave way to tears as small sobs escaped his lips. When Petunia entered the room, Harry couldn't help but look up with longing… just a small hug or maybe an ice pack for his hurt knees._

_The woman gave him neither and instead, twisted her lips in anger. "You nasty little freak! Look what you've done, water all over the floor! Go to your cupboard! Now!"_

_Climbing to his feet, Harry moved quickly to obey. _

_Before he made it, Uncle Vernon stopped him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. "Not a sound boy! We don't want anyone to know you're here," Vernon roared. "Or you won't come out for a week."_

"_Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said, fighting back the tears._

_After being shoved into the cupboard, the door was slammed and locked shut. Biting his lip, Harry kept himself quiet… yet he couldn't stop the tears. He pulled his hurting knees close, wishing again that he had a mummy and daddy. Someone to hold him and make sure his hurts went away. But he was all alone._

Harry had long since given up the hope of having parents, just as he'd accepted being alone… until recently, when he'd dared hope again… First with Sirius and then with Snape…

_Harry's dreams shifted to a much more recent memory… Harry sat in a similar fashion with his knees pulled close, but the room was very different._

_He'd been captured at least a day or two before. Twice already, Lucius Malfoy and come and taken him to the empty room. Twice, he and Bellatrix Lestrange had had their fun, torturing him mercilessly. The last time, Harry'd finally broken down and cried. As stubborn as he was, he couldn't fight the pain any longer and he asked them to stop—begged them to stop. Both Malfoy and Lestrange had laughed at him, but Harry didn't care—his pride had long since gone. At least they had stopped. After giving him another round of healing potions, they had left Harry alone in the fancy room feeling sick and achy. _

_It was a strange place to be held captive. Like his cupboard, it was completely closed off, with no windows and only one locked door. But instead of cleaning bottles and dirty shelves, Harry was surrounded by a beautiful room one might find in a manor._

_But none of that mattered, as he was once again left all alone and in pain. Like he had when he was a little boy, Harry cried silently, wishing his Mum and Dad would come. Being sixteen, Harry knew it would never happen, so his wishes quickly changed to joining his Mum and Dad. He wanted to die._

With a start, Harry sat up in bed. In the darkness of the room, he was caught off guard. Thinking he was all alone, still in that dreaded manor, Harry gasped for air as panic over took him.

"Harry," Remus called. "Harry, you're okay."

Reaching out, Harry latched on to Remus' arm as the man spelled the lights on. The brightness had Harry squinting, but even so, it was a small comfort. More important, though, was Remus' arm and Harry clung to it like a lifeline.

However, as Harry adjusted to the room's brightness, some fear crept back into him. He suddenly noticed how similar it was to the other manor… When was the last time he'd been out of the room?

"I need to get out," Harry said, releasing Remus' arm. Scooting to the other side of the bed, he climbed to his feet. "I want to go outside."

The floor was cold, but Harry didn't bother to look for shoes or slippers. His only thought was opening the door, assuming it was unlocked. Abruptly, he feared it might not be.

"Harry, wait," Remus' called. "You're hurt… this might not be a good idea. Climb back into bed while I ask Madame Pomfrey."

"No!" Harry shouted. He did not want more potions; suddenly he remembered the delusional potion Lucius had made him take. What if all this was just another delusion… what if he was still at the manor? Wildly, Harry dashed for the door, but Remus grabbed him. Like a trapped animal, Harry flailed his arms and kicked his legs. "No!" he screamed again and again.

Harry reached out his arm; he was so close to the door. He had to know that it could open; he had to know he could get outside.

Suddenly, the door did open, but not by Harry's doing. It revealed a rather disgruntled looking Severus Snape, dressed only in pajamas, but looking foreboding as ever with his wand raised.

"I need to go outside," Harry pleaded.

At first, Snape looked confused, but in the next instant he looked understanding. "Let him go," Snape commanded, taking hold of Harry's outstretched hand. Remus did as he was told, but opened his mouth to protest. Snape cut him off, "We'll be just fine. Now leave us be for a few minutes."

Injured or not, Snape's tongue, coupled with his glare, still held a lot of authority. Soon, Harry found himself supported by (and supporting) Snape as they hobbled down the stairs. Breathing heavily from the exertion, Snape opened the front door, bringing them right outside.

They didn't bother leaving the porch; therefore, they didn't exactly leave the property. Still safe within the protected confines of Dumbledore's Fidelius Charm, Harry looked up into the clear night sky full of stars. The moon was getting large, so the area was well lit.

"Does that meet with your fancy, Potter?" Snape snapped.

Harry knew there was no malice in Snape's tone. Relaxing, he took a deep breath of the fresh crisp air. Looking back at the moon, he wondered how much longer he'd have Remus around.

"I expect to be able to brew your potion tomorrow," Snape said, filling the silence. "You should be well enough to take it within the next two days. Finally, we'll be done with your deaged persona."

Unconsciously, Harry scooted closer to Snape; it was cold outside and he wished one of them had brought along a cloak or a blanket.

"Potter?" Snape asked. The man's voice seemed off—strained or awkward. "I understand that you're in need of a guardian." He paused. "If you're still undecided, I…" Snape pursed his lips, looking frustrated and disgusted, neither of which was directed at Harry, but rather internally. "Skipping sentimentality," Snape's tone became harder, "I am offering to adopt you." Again, there was silence. "We should go inside," Snape announced, ushering Harry back into Grimmauld Place.

Blankly, Harry followed, his mind reeling. Despite all the recent events, he hadn't expected to hear that out of the man's mouth, not in a million years. However, it took him less than a minute to decide.

"Yes!" Harry blurted out.

Snape looked startled and maybe a little confused. "Yes?" he asked quietly.

"You asked to adopt me," Harry clarified. "My answer is yes."

Sorry it's been so long for an update… but you can blame "RL." Oh hey, it's my birthday (on the 7th) so you should forgive me and leave lots of juicy reviews. BTW, I didn't think people would worry about Snape dying, because in my profile I explained that this was a "Snape adopts" fic. But I suppose not everyone reads that, sorry…


	23. Trust

Author's note: Sorry it's been so long since I updated. I'm in my senior year of college, taking all 400 level Biology courses, and working part time. I'd like to remind people that this story is pre HBP and ignores the cannon information we find out in it (for the most part). Also, I'd like to give a special thanks to Sunsethill; my ever faithful beta (took her one day to beta!!!). And my friend, Nefla for helping me hammer out a not-so-boring chapter, Syllvia for all her input, and Solitare (Emrald Eyes)/Kailanyui for their support. I'm collecting quite the staff!

I'd write a summary of past events, but I'm too tired right now to do it, and I really want to post. Basically, Snape and Harry were tortured, escaped/rescued, and were brought back to Grimmauld Place. Harry had to pick a guardian, because the Dursleys are dead… he chose Snape…

Chapter 23

Trust

xxxxx

At the time, it had been easy to say yes to Snape's adoption offer—a reaction really, without much thought. However, Harry soon realized that making the decision was certainly a lot easier than explaining it. Harry would never forget the look of shock and dismay in Remus' face when he had come back inside with Snape. He vaguely heard Snape's angry growl as he accused Remus of eavesdropping, but at the time he was too busy wincing to pay attention. At first, he hadn't really thought about how the Marauder would react, but he was thinking about it now.

In fact, Harry was suddenly thinking about a lot of people's reactions. His father and Sirius were first on his list of concerns… not that their opinion_ really_ mattered. And then he worried about how his friends would react, namely Ron, when he told them he had chosen the "slimy git" as a guardian. Worst of all, Harry had to find some way to tell the others why he hadn't picked them and he didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings.

Remus hadn't said a word as he had helped Harry back to bed. When Madame Pomfrey had showed up—no doubt summoned by Remus—there hadn't been much of a chance for conversation. She'd bustled about, quickly checking Harry over, but thankfully, she didn't bother lecturing him on the necessity to stay in bed. After the examination, she had given him a sleeping draught and before he could say another word, he was fast asleep.

When he woke late into the next morning, Harry was happy to note that Remus was still with him. The man stood precariously on a stool, adjusting the rod that held up the drapes. It looked as though Remus had tried to open the curtains as far as possible, but because of the heavy fabric, they still bunched up, covering a significant amount of the windows. Harry wondered why the wizard didn't just use magic to do whatever he was doing.

"Remus?" Harry began to ask.

The man, startled by the sudden sound, nearly fell off the stool. Somehow Remus managed to maintain his balance, but the rod broke free from the wall, causing it and the drapes to come crashing down. Climbing off the stool, Remus took out his wand and banished the entire window dressing.

Remus turned, smiling at Harry and said, "I suppose that's one way to do it."

"Do what?" Harry asked.

"I thought you'd like a little bit more daylight," Remus explained.

"Why didn't you just use magic?"

"I didn't want to wake you," Remus replied.

The man pocketed his wand as he surveyed his handiwork. Now that Harry took the time to look around, he noticed how bright the room had become. It really did feel a lot more open, instead of confining. When he had been captive, the room in which he was held had no windows. After his near panic to get out last night, Remus must have realized how restrained Harry felt in the room. Harry's heart warmed knowing that Remus wanted to make him feel as safe as possible.

And then Harry's mood quickly sank. They still hadn't talked about his decision for guardian. Remus must have noticed the change, because he too became serious. As Harry sat up, Remus came over and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Remus, I…" Harry tried to explain, but he couldn't think of the right words.

"Harry, I understand," Remus said.  
"You do?"

"Yes," Remus smiled warmly. "You've been through a lot and Severus was there to save you from it." Harry's brow wrinkled, confused by Remus' choice in words, but before he could ask for clarification, the headmaster walked in.

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said jovially, "I was hoping you'd be awake." The headmaster came over and sat in the chair beside Harry's bed. Despite Dumbledore's sparkling eyes, Harry still felt nervous. "Have you made a decision?"

Harry was rather shocked by how blunt the headmaster had been. At first, he'd hoped the man would start with pleasantries… _Where was the candy offer?_ Realizing that he had been staring dumbly out into space, Harry shook his head. "Yes," he said quickly. "I choose Snape." _If Dumbledore is going to be blunt, so can I_. When the man didn't immediately reply, Harry felt compelled to clarify. "…for my guardian. I pick Snape."

Dumbledore closed his eyes; the old man appeared strained. "Harry—"

"You said I could choose," Harry shouted without thinking.

"Yes, I realize, but—"

"No _buts_," Harry cut him off, his temper raging.

"Please, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly, "as I said, the decision is yours. But first, please listen to what I have to say." Scowling, Harry crossed his arms and nodded. "I understand that you suffered a lot, perhaps it is too soon…" Dumbledore trailed off and seemed to take a moment to reconsider his tactics. "I know that Severus saved you from all of that, but it doesn't—"

"Wait. What are you saying?" Harry asked.

Remus responded, "He rescued you, Harry. I know you feel more dependent on him or that—"

"What?!" Harry was raging now. He scrambled to get out of bed and stood up. "I don't care what you think! You said it was my choice and I choose Snape. Now either you listen to me or you don't." Harry stormed to the bathroom. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he looked more like a petulant child than anything else, but he didn't care.

Harry ran over and started the tap on the bath. After a moment's hesitation, he then returned to the door, leaning against it in case he could hear something.

"How could _Snape_ be Harry's guardian?" Remus asked, "I honestly can't see him taking care of a child." Harry rolled his eyes at the word "child," he was hardly a little kid and he could take care of himself. "Severus is one of the most unpleasant of individuals, he—"

"Severus would make an adequate guardian," Dumbledore said.

"But why would he choose Severus Snape, of all people?" Remus asked. Harry noticed the man didn't sound angry, more confused and concerned. "There's really only one possible explanation. Severus rescued him, so he must feel more dependent or like he owes something…"

"I don't know why Harry picked Severus," Dumbledore replied, "but I believe his decision may be premature. If we had more time—the ministry official is coming tomorrow at noon and we need to get all our paperwork in order. The decision is ultimately mine and I don't think this is was Harry _really_ wants."

Harry grit his teeth, his anger rising; he knew Dumbledore would do whatever _he_ wanted no matter what. Harry almost barged back into the room, but Remus beat him to it.

"Wait," he said—a hint of anger in his voice, "you told Harry it was his choice. You can't go back on that now. Besides, he's sixteen, you said it yourself—if Harry's not agreeable, he may end up a ward of the ministry."

Dumbledore sighed, "I'll get the process started, but you need to talk to Harry and I'll talk to Severus."

Relieved, Harry released his breath. He was still angry at them both, but he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards Remus. Even though the man hadn't agreed with his choice, he had still defended him. Once again, Harry felt guilty for snapping at the man.

xxxxx

By noon, Harry was ready to make his escape from Grimmauld Place. He didn't want to think about the logistics of Snape being his guardian, or "what it actually meant." The questions were okay at first, but after Remus had asked them over and over, it got annoying. Harry was at the point that he would rather go on a picnic with Voldemort than listen to Remus another minute. Thankfully, Madame Pomfrey came by and said he was well enough to get out of bed (as long as he kept his activity level low). Harry nearly sprinted from the room, but he was stopped by a grumpy looking Snape.

The Potions Master rested an arm on his shoulder. Briefly, they made eye contact before Snape looked up and spoke to Madame Pomfrey. "Is he well enough for the aging potion?" Snape asked.

Harry groaned when he noticed the glass held in Severus' right hand. The clear liquid looked innocent enough, like refreshing water—but Harry knew better. "I thought you said a couple days… so I could heal," he said quietly. It wasn't that he was afraid of or even trying to skirt the pain; he had just been looking forward to getting out of bed. Snape didn't reply. Instead, he stared intently at the mediwitch for the verdict.

Madame Pomfrey didn't answer right away. Taking a deep breath, she said "I would advise against it." She sounded set in her position, as if she'd argued her point earlier and was not willing to give up.

"Yes," Snape drawled, "but are there specific concerns?"

The level of her voice increased, "He's tired, magically drained—"

Snape cut her off, "His injuries are healed?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then he is ready."

She huffed, stomped her foot a bit and opened her mouth to protest some more. And then abruptly, much to Harry's surprise, she left the room without further fuss. Harry longed to follow her.

"Come, Potter, let's get this over with," Snape said, pushing the boy towards the bed.

"Stop, Severus. Slow down. There's no need to shove him," Remus said. "Maybe you should let him relax for a little while, he wanted to get out and—"

"Do you want _the wolf_ to stay?" Snape sneered.

"Er, well…" Harry said, climbing into bed.

"Lupin out," Snape commanded as helped Harry pull the covers up.

"No, it's okay," Harry said, "he can stay."

"Of course I'm staying," Remus interjected, squeezing his way past Snape in order to be near Harry's head. "I'm sorry I haven't been here for you lately," Remus said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I was busy wi—"

Snape grabbed Remus by the arm and physically moved him out of the way. "If you're going to stay," he snapped, "then you may stand at the end of the bed."

"Well, Severus you could—"

"Now, Potter," Snape said, ignoring the other man, "as before, I am going to charm your clothes away. And remember, you must drink all of this." He handed Harry the cup filled with the clear liquid. "This last dose is very important; I have formulated it to get you close to the age you were before your little expedition to the Ministry."

Harry rolled his eyes and then scowled for good measure. He thought up a retort, but was distracted by the cup in his hands. He lifted it to his lips and once it was closer to his nose, he recognized the faint smell. Not that he could name the scent. It was like nothing else. But suddenly, he became acutely aware of the effects of the aging potion. He remembered exactly how it felt to have his body stretched out… the burning pain in his stomach.

"Why are we rushing this?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself. He lightly blushed when he realized just how weak he sounded. After all he'd been through, he should be able to handle the pain.

"Idiots from the ministry are coming tomorrow about the adoption," Snape explained, annoyance tingeing his voice. Harry winced at the tone and looked back towards the glass.

"Wait, Harry," Remus said from his position at the foot of the bed, "What's wrong? Is it the potion?"

"Harry, look at me," Snape said. Harry looked up. "You need to be sixteen tomorrow, to fill out the paperwork and for the interviews." Speaking in a civil tone, Snape appeared to be a little awkward. It dawned on Harry that Snape might actually be embarrassed to act caring in front of Remus. In light of the situation and recent events, the realization made Harry want to laugh. "I know that mentally you're still sixteen," Snape continued, "but I would rather not test the intelligence of ministry personnel. So tomorrow, when they arrive, I'd like them to see a sixteen year old boy."

"Why did Madame Pomfrey have objections?" Remus asked.

"Will I sleep a lot like before?" Harry asked.

"Most likely you'll sleep longer," Snape replied. "The strain will be much harder considering how exhausted you already are both physically and magically."

"So I might sleep through the ministry visit as well?" Harry asked, actually feeling hopeful.

"No," Snape responded. "And before they come, you and I need to have a discussion," Snape squirmed slightly, once again looking embarrassed, "and I'd rather talk to a lucid Harry Potter, than a drowsy one." Harry couldn't help it, he smiled—Snape looked so uncomfortable. In response, Snape scowled, "Not that I'd see a change in your eloquence either way. Now, stop talking and drink your potion."

"Before he drinks that," Remus interrupted, nearly shouting, "one of you had better explain what the fuss is about."

"Maybe he shouldn't stay," Harry muttered.

At the same time, Snape turned to Remus, speaking with his usual sneer he said, "How do you suppose this potion should feel? It's an aging potion. The boy is going to age five years in less than a minute. You—a werewolf—should have some sort of idea…"

"You idiot!" Snape shouted, looking over just in time to see Harry drop the empty cup. Quickly, Snape pulled Harry down the bed by his legs and then charmed his clothes away. Harry was vaguely aware of Snape shouting some more insults, at him or at Remus… Harry wasn't really sure.

The burning pain in his stomach spread rapidly to every part of his body, until it was all he knew. Amidst the agony, he felt a hand grasping his. It was like an anchor, leading him out of the darkness back into reality. Slowly, the pain slipped away and he opened his eyes.

"Welcome back, Harry," Snape greeted.

"Hiya," Harry mumbled, trying to sit up.

"You're too tired," Snape said, placing a firm hand on Harry's shoulder to prevent the boy from getting up.

"'m sixteen?" Harry's eyes were getting droopy.

"Yes, you're sixteen." Harry felt his head rise slightly and then it was set down on something feather soft. _A pillo_w, _that's nice,_ Harry thought.

Nearly asleep, Harry's eyes shot open. "Where's Remus?" he asked, trying to sit up to see the man.

"He…" Snape didn't elaborate.

Harry caught sight of brown hair on the ground, leading to the rest of the man's head. "Wha' happened?" Harry mumbled. Even though he was fairly alarmed, he still couldn't fight off his exhaustion. "Di' he faint?"

"No," Snape replied. The man sounded a bit amused, but Harry couldn't be sure and he drifted off to sleep before he could find out more.

xxxxx

When Harry woke next, the first thing he noticed was that he was hungry. He felt as though he hadn't eaten in days. Added to that was his incredible need to use the toilet. There was no time to contemplate how warm and comfortable he was—no this was serious. He was halfway out of bed when he became aware of two horrible things. First, he was stark naked. And second, he was not alone. With an abrupt, self-conscious movement, Harry pulled the fallen covers in front of himself with a squeak, avoiding Remus' unbothered gaze.

"Good morning, Harry," the man said cordially.

Harry blushed "Er… 'morning."

To make matters worse, the door opened, bringing along a scowling Potions Master. "Shower, get dressed, and then come down for breakfast," Snape barked. "Lupin, Mrs. Weasley would like a word."

Remus stood, "Did she say why?" Snape's scowl deepened. "Right. Harry, I'll see you later."

Harry made a nondescript noise in response and was relieved to note that both men left without further ado. He stared at the door for a while longer, just in case anyone else decided to make an entrance. Still wrapped in the blanket, he made his way to the bathroom, darting a quick glance over his shoulder as he went.

xxxxx

Descending the stairs, Harry smelled the food first, unmistakably Mrs. Weasley's cooking. Then he heard the voices. Dumbledore was discussing with Remus something that made Snape snort. _Funny how I can recognize that from here_, Harry thought. He was well aware of how much time had passed since he woke that morning. _Snape would not be pleased_. It was strange how suddenly that mattered.

Self consciously rubbing the back of his neck, Harry made his way to the table. He was careful not to make eye contact with Snape and looked for the closest open seat.

"Harry, dear!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. He was wrapped in a tight hug before he even saw the red-headed woman come. "It's good to see you out of bed." A bit awkward at first, Harry lifted his arms hesitantly and hugged her back. Suddenly, he found himself reluctant to leave… did she know he hadn't chosen her? "How are you feeling?" she asked—her voice gentle and full of concern.

Although he didn't want to, he pulled out of the hug. "I'm okay," he shrugged. Looking back at her kind face, Harry suddenly got nervous. He didn't know how to tell Mrs. Weasley about Snape… would she still treat him the same? "Er, I…" Patiently, Mrs. Weasley waited for Harry to finish, but he couldn't think of what to say.

"Come, Harry," she said, pulling Harry towards the table, "you look hungry. And we'll have plenty of time to talk later." Despite the fact he was now back to his sixteen-year-old body, he followed Mrs. Weasley's lead, and even sat down in the chair she pulled out for him. He was barely seated before a plate, over loaded with food, was levitated towards him. Mrs. Weasley seemed so happy; Harry had a sinking feeling that she really didn't know his decision.

Curious, Harry looked to Snape for some sort of explanation. The man looked back, clearly annoyed. They held each other's gaze for a moment, before Harry turned back to his food. _The sooner he ate, the sooner he could get on with the day_...

Harry had only taken a couple bites of eggs before the Floo flared up and Mr. Weasley stepped into the room. Hermione and Ron followed shortly behind him.

Harry was on his feet just in time to be enveloped by his friends. Hermione wept on his shoulder, mumbling a lot of phrases that were most likely questions, but Harry couldn't be sure. Meanwhile, Ron patted his back, almost as if to ensure himself that Harry was really there.

"I'm all right, guys, really," Harry said.

Hermione, despite her tears, laughed at that. Pulling away from Harry, she started to wipe her eyes. "We should be the ones comforting you."

Harry, not knowing what to say, shrugged. He knew eventually his friends would expect to hear details about his captivity, but he didn't want to talk about it. He hadn't talked to anyone about it yet, not even Remus. In fact, he had spent the last few days trying not to even think about it.

"Harry, mate," Ron said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. Now that Harry was taller, he was easily able to look his friend in the eye. "You really are okay?" Ron asked, sounding very serious. Harry nodded, smiling a little, trying to seem sincere. "I, er… well," Ron struggled with what to say next, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Although Harry couldn't be sure, he got the feeling Ron was feeling guilty about something. Quickly, Ron pulled Harry into a tight hug, "I'm glad you're back." Hermione followed suit, wrapping her arms around Harry and Ron.

Someone coughed, a few bodies shifted and then a distinct snort brought the trio out of their group hug. Looking back at the table, Harry remembered that they were not alone. Harry and Ron blushed, while Hermione wiped her eyes. They all stood uncomfortably for a moment before Ron broke the silence, "I'm starving."

Hermione smacked him lightly on the arm, "You're always hungry." They all sat down at the table, and Harry momentarily forgot that he'd have to tell his friends about Snape… or about his captivity. Right now, he could be Harry, just Harry, sitting with his friends. Conversation around the room picked up and Harry was able to blend into the background.

Harry wasn't really listening to Ron ramble on, till he said something particularly striking. "I've fixed up a side of my room for you," he said. "Of course, you can change things as you like. And—"

"Wait, what?!" Harry asked surprised.

"You know, my room…well our room. Mum let me and Hermione come home and work on fixing it up for you."

"Why?"

"Well, I know we won't be home until the holidays, but we thought you'd like to have your own space at the burrow. Just think, later today, we'll be real brothers!"

Harry's heart sank, "But I chose—" Harry looked towards Snape, hoping he would have some sort of answer; instead the man sat glaring towards some nondescript point across the room. Suddenly, Harry realized how exuberant Molly Weasley was, chatting amiably with Dumbledore. Even Mr. Weasley seemed happier then normal, winking at Harry when they made eye contact.

"What was that, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry felt sick, he couldn't believe that the Headmaster went against him…. Well he _could_, but he'd thought that everything had been settled—that Snape would be his guardian. He wanted to say something, to shout and rage—so that the Headmaster knew he wouldn't be manipulated… But he couldn't—not in front of the Weasleys; he didn't want to hurt them. Even so, Harry wasn't about to go along with Dumbledore's plans. He'd rather be a ward of the ministry… it was just too risky for the Weasleys.

How could he explain his choice of guardian to them? He had been planning to speak to each of them separately, to sort of gently enlighten them. Now, though, it would be harder. They seemed so excited to adopt him—but maybe, if he could just talk to Mrs. Weasley privately…

"I am adopting Potter," Snape drawled. His tone was bored, but his voice carried over everyone in the room, silencing all conversation. Ron dropped his fork and it dramatically clattered to the floor. Harry's face grew red, with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. He tried to glare at Snape, but the man was busy looking in the other direction, as if nothing at all happened.

Simultaneously, everyone—with the exception of Snape—turned to Harry for some sort of response. Unable to speak, Harry gave a short nod. Then, as one, they all turned to Dumbledore.

"Harry has chosen Severus for a guardian," the Headmaster replied.

Suddenly, the silence was shattered as everyone started speaking at once. The loudest was Mrs. Weasley, "What are you thinking, Albus? Severus would **not **make a good guardian. Harry needs love and care for him."

"Severus will—"

Molly cut him off, "He will yell at and berate the boy at every possible moment. Severus couldn't possibly give him the love and guidance he needs."

Harry didn't catch the headmaster's response, as Hermione got his attention. "Harry, this can't really be what you want," she said.

"It is," Harry tried to explain.

"But _Snape_," Ron said, spitting out the name as if it were something foul. "How could you choose the greasy git?" The redhead didn't seem angry,_ yet_, but Harry couldn't help but cringe at the tone.

"You know we've been getting on better," Harry whispered urgently.

"Yes but—"

"Harry, you don't have to say yes to Snape," Hermione said adamantly, she sounded really worried. "I mean, I'm sure he won't hold it against you."

Before Harry could respond, he was distracted by Mrs. Weasley. She was yelling now, rebuking the headmaster as if the old man was a small child. Harry couldn't recall seeing her so angry.

Remus and Mr. Weasley were also having their own heated discussion. And both Hermione and Ron had started arguing over different reasons as to why Harry would be delusional enough to choose Snape for a guardian. Only Snape and Harry remained silent, a fact that really grated on his nerves. It was his life they were all arguing over, and it was his right to make the decisions!

Something inside Harry snapped. His anger boiled up inside himself until it came bursting forth. "I chose Snape!" Harry shouted. "I can choose for myself!"

"Harry, dear," Molly soothed, looking ready to come and give him a big hug.

"No," Harry yelled, holding up his hand to stave her off. "You can't adopt me, you can't." He turned back towards Dumbledore, "I'd rather be a ward of the ministry if you won't agree to Snape. Don't think I won't."

"Harry, I haven't—" Dumbledore tried to speak, but Harry cut him off.

"I don't want to hear your excuses. You think you can control everyone! Well not anymore!" Harry wanted to throw something, he was so angry, but the only thing within his reach was food. Thankfully, he realized the absurdity of throwing food would do nothing to prove his determination. Instead, he folded his arms and glared.

"Potter, try to control—"

"And you," Harry snapped, effectively cutting Snape off. "Why did you have to blurt it out? I would think you had more tact than that."

"Potter," Snape scowled. "I would suggest you go." Snape shifted his body, casually setting down his fork. "Let the adults have their discussion."

"What?!" Harry shouted, "This affects me too. I should—"

"Go, Potter," Snape interrupted. "And take your friends with you."

"You can't order me around," Harry replied stubbornly, "you're not—"

Snape raised an eyebrow. Harry blushed as the rest of the room's occupants stared at him. On one hand, he could continue to rant, but he didn't want the others to think he was angry with Snape. Added to that, he wanted to show them that Snape could be his guardian. He wished Snape hadn't put him in this position… He opened his mouth to reply further, but Snape spoke first.

"Let me take care of it," he said.

All at once, Harry's resolve wavered. "Fine," he spit out, trying to retain some of his dignity. "Come on, guys," he said to his friends, "let's go. I can explain things better to you without everyone yelling."

xxxxx

Harry brought his friends up to his room, slowly cooling down as he went. When they entered, Ron eyed the fallen window covering but didn't say anything. As soon as the door was shut, Hermione said, "Harry, what are you thinking?"

"Snape, your guardian! Are you mad?!" Ron added.

Harry was already getting frustrated, "You both_ know_ I've been getting along with Snape better."

"That is a far cry from asking the man to adopt you, Harry!" Hermione rebuked. "Snape is **not** a nice man. He, he—"

"We've always thought of you as our adopted brother," Ron said softly. "We've always cared about you."

Now Harry felt guilty, his anger quickly dissipating. He sat down on his bed and sighed. "Look," Harry said quietly, "I know you and your family have always cared for me, but…I can't put you in any more danger."

"Oh, that's bollocks, that is! My parents and brothers are active members of the Order of Phoenix. A pure blood family, openly opposing You-Know-Who, of course we're in danger."

"Harry, what you really need is someone who will love you," Hermione added. "Someone nurturing and caring… Snape could never be that for you. Don't you see?"

"I don't expect you to understand," Harry answered, looking down at his hands. "But I _do_ know what I'm doing."

"But why, Harry?" Hermione asked, coming over to sit by him. "You have to tell us why."

"I don't have to explain anything," Harry snapped, his anger rushing back. He sighed; this was not how he envisioned telling his friends. He didn't want to have to defend his own decisions. He moved over to the window, looking out at the gray street below. "You know what one of my earliest memories is," he reflected, turning slowly back to look at his friends. Hermione and Ron gave him a blank look, as if they didn't know how this related. "I remember my parents dying, when Voldemort came." Ron cringed at the name. "But right after that, I remember Snape holding me, comforting me." Harry rubbed his arm and looked away… he had never intended on telling his friends_ that_.

"That's impossible," Hermione replied, her eyes incredulous.

"You're not telling me that Snape was nice to you as a baby." Ron said. "I mean, he hated you when you came to Hogwarts."

"I was de-aged," Harry stated, as if they were both idiots. "And so Snape took care of me. Your mum was there, too," he added, giving Ron a glance, "but she kept babying me, so much so that I'd hide from her. And when I really needed her, she was off getting you and Ginny. I mean, Snape held me, all night… I was so scared and—" Harry stopped; he hated admitting how vulnerable he was, even to his friends. "I've never had that before. And ever since, Snape has been supportive, in his own odd way. I know he will make a good guardian; I really do trust him."

Ron opened his mouth to respond and then snapped it shut. He turned his head sharply and walked to the opposite side of the room. Harry's mood brightened, because he knew Ron. His friend might be a little frustrated, but he was willing to let Harry make his own decision. Harry knew he and Ron would be okay.

Hermione appeared to be deep in thought. Harry suddenly wondered if she needed to look up the situation in a book—the thought made him want to laugh. "Harry," she said urgently. She bit her lip, "I think you're making a mistake." Harry rolled his eyes and opened his mouth, ready to argue. "I'm worried he's going to hurt you, or—"

"Hermione, trust me," Harry urged, "I know what I'm doing."

"Ronald, Hermione," they heard Mrs. Weasley call from downstairs, "We're leaving now."

Hermione and Ron were quick to obey, because Mrs. Weasley didn't sound at all happy. Harry followed behind them, walking them to the Floo. Harry hated to see how frustrated Mrs. Weasley was, her face red as she muttered to herself. The woman looked as though she was on the verge of tears. Mr. Weasley was already gone.

"Through the Floo," Mrs. Weasley ordered. "You need to get back to school."

Hermione gave Harry a quick hug before she left. Ron walked straight to the Floo, but before he tossed in the powder, he looked back towards Harry and gave him a short nod. Mrs. Weasley was preparing to leave, without having said a thing to Harry.

"Mrs. Weasley," Harry called, feeling guilty and sad. She turned back to him, still looking angry. "I… I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Before Harry could look up to see Mrs. Weasley's reaction, he was enveloped in a hug. "No matter what," Mrs. Weasley said, "you can always come to me if you need help." She pulled out of the hug, and then put a hand under Harry's chin, forcing him to make eye contact, "You will always be a part of my family." Harry nodded, unable to find the words to respond. "Now," she said, patting him on the shoulder, "you go finish your breakfast."

xxxxx

Harry barely had enough time to finish his meal before Snape spelled the dishes away. At the same time, Remus disappeared from the room and the Headmaster took the Floo back to his office.

Harry had a moment to feel uncomfortable; sure that Snape would start yelling at him for his actions earlier that day. Instead, the man slapped down a mountain of paperwork in front of him. The quill and ink soon followed and then Snape sat down with his own pile. Riffling through the parchments, Harry couldn't help but wonder how much the ministry really needed to know? He could understand some of the questions, but what difference did it make whether or not he knew how to swim, or what his favorite foods were? Harry had a suspicion that some of the questions had been thrown in just for him, and he tried to peek at Snape's papers. He attempted to be sneaky about it, but before he could make out a word, Snape pulled the stack closer to himself, effectively cutting off his view.

It felt like an hour before Snape broke the silence with a question, "Do you want to change your name?"

"No," Harry replied quickly. It was more of a startled reaction than a thought out response. "Er… well," Harry tried to smooth over his mistake, "um, do you mean 'Harry Snape,' because I—"

"Harry," Snape interrupted, "it's a simple question. If you don't want to change your name, then don't. There's no need to ramble on." Harry scowled at Snape, even though the man was too busy writing to notice. "Who would you like for godparents?"

"Godparents?" Harry asked.

"In case I should die, who would you like to adopt you next?"

"Is that supposed to be funny?" Harry snapped.

"Hardly," Snape replied pinching the bridge of his nose.

Harry still felt Snape was being a little insensitive. He snorted aloud, _when was Snape **not** insensitive_. "Remus," Harry answered feeling smug.

"No."

"Hey, you asked me," Harry shrugged.

"You can not have a werewolf for a godfather," Snape replied sternly. "My opinion aside, the ministry would never allow it. So pick again."

"Er…well, it doesn't really matter who I pick right? In eight months I'll be seventeen. You should be able to live that long."

"I am pleased with your vote of confidence," Snape said, "but in any case, you need godparents. Might I suggest the Weasleys?"

"I guess."

Snape dropped his quill and leaned back in his chair. "You _guess_," Snape mocked. "You will not become a ward of the ministry or other such nonsense. If you'd prefer me to choose, I would like Albus."

"No," Harry replied firmly. Snape raised an eyebrow. Suddenly, Harry felt manipulated, if he didn't make his own decision Snape would pick Dumbledore. And Snape knew he didn't want that. Suddenly, Harry had a thought, "How many godparents can I have?"

"Do you plan to start a collection?" Snape taunted.

Harry scowled, but continued, "Perhaps you could start by putting Remus down as my godfather." Snape opened his mouth, but Harry continued, "and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley too."

Snape leaned forward and took a moment before responding. "And what purpose would that serve."

Harry shrugged, "It wouldn't make any difference. If they won't let Remus adopt me—"

"They won't," Snape interjected.

Harry ignored him, "then I'll go to the Weasleys." Snape looked away and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I guess," Harry continued, "it would be symbolic or something." Still Snape didn't answer. "Please Snape; I want him to be a part of my life… I can't just ignore him."

Snape groaned, "He will not be visiting the house, nor will he come to Hogwarts. If you must see the _wolf_, you will come to me for permission."

"Does that mean yes?" Harry asked; letting out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "You'll agree to Remus being my godfather?" Snape gave a curt nod and then returned to his paperwork. Harry continued to grin, excited to tell Remus and the Weasleys of their new position in his life. Harry had a funny thought, _what if Ron were to off Snape just to…_ Suddenly, Harry realized something else Snape had said. "Wait, what about 'visiting the house,' _what_ house?"

"I own a house in Dorset," Snape replied, "which, as a consequence of this adoption, will become your house as well. However, Lupin is not welcome there."

"Dorset? Is the house near a beach?" Harry asked curiously. He'd always wanted to see the sea.

"Yes," Snape responded, "now finish your paperwork. We'll have plenty of time to discuss the house later."

Harry huffed, and then picked up his parchment. He was near the end of the pile when Snape spoke again. "Your inheritance from both Sirius and your parents will be held in a trust for you," Snape stated, not bothering to look up, "until you turn seventeen."

"Wait," Harry said, feeling a little uneasy, "but what if I need to buy something or…" He trailed off. He didn't know why it bothered him. After all, he did withdraw what he figured was enough for the school year.

"As your guardian, I will ensure that you have everything you need," Snape replied. "Unfortunately for you, we may disagree on what you decide you might need. I will not allow you to waste away your fortune on chocolate frogs and broomsticks." When Harry didn't respond, Snape finally looked up. "Harry, you have to speak if you want me to know something."

Harry sighed. "It's just…"

"What?"

"I've been taking care of myself for a while now," Harry replied. "I haven't wasted my money and..."

"Harry," Snape called, causing Harry to look up again. "You have to trust that I will take care of you."

xxxxx

Thank you for reading, hopefully the update will be sooner than this one (no promises). And Draco will be making an appearance next chapter… The county I picked in England was randomly found on the internet, I don't really know anything about it, but it looks pretty. I'll do more research when/if they go to the house. If anyone knows more about Dorset, let me know—thanks! Oh, and BTW, Reviews help to inspire.


	24. Ecalp Dluammirg

Warning… there is a bit of a cliffy at the end of this chapter and I don't know when I'll have the time to update… 2 more months in the quarter and then graduation, moving, new job (hopefully), etc. But I'll try to write whenever I can. BTW, in my HP universe, chocolate frogs come in a box.

Chapter 24

Ecalp Dluammirg

xxxxx

The interviews had gone well, or so Snape had told him, but Harry was still nervous. The adoption wasn't official until the ministry said so, giving Harry plenty of time to worry about all the things that could go wrong. Since Madame Pomfrey had approved, Harry was free to get out of bed and go anywhere in Grimmauld Place. But even though he had a lot of freedom, he still preferred to be near others. After breakfast with Remus, Harry wandered up to the study where Snape was correcting papers.

"Do you mind if I work on homework?" Harry asked. "Hermione sent me a list of assignments and notes from class. Well, really, the notes are more like a transcription of every word, but—"

"Yes, Harry," Snape interrupted, "you may study here."

"Great. Thanks!" Harry smiled. Walking quickly, he exited the room in haste to get his school things. By the time he reached the end of the hall, he broke out in a sprint and took the stairs two at a time. Returning to the study, Harry had an armload of books and flushed cheeks. His breathing was a bit quick, but he felt good after the little bit of physical activity. He was careful to walk back into the room, so as not to disturb Snape.

"May I ask what you think you were doing, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked in a hard tone.

Harry shrugged, "I needed to get my stuff."

Snape narrowed his eyes, "And what part of, 'keep your activity level low,' don't you understand?"

"Oh, that," Harry brushed it off. He remembered Madame Pomfrey's words… but the mediwitch wasn't there, and what harm could come from a little bit of sprinting.

"Yes, _that_," Snape mocked. "Would you prefer to return to bed rest?"

"Come on," Harry retorted, "I didn't exert myself too much. Give me a break." He put his belongings down on a small table and began pulling it towards the settee.

"Potter, look at me when I'm speaking to you," Snape commanded. "We're not done with this discussion." Harry did as he was told, but folded his arms in irritation. Snape glared, "This is important Potter. Mark my words, if you continue to act as a foolish child, you will be sent to bed like one." Harry dropped his arms. "I take Madame Pomfrey's instructions seriously."

"Oh, right," Harry replied sarcastically. "I bet you're supposed to be in bed or something right now. Instead, you're running all over the—"

Snape interrupted again, "I am not a sixteen-year-old boy. I know the limitations of my own body. Also, I am not _running around_, but completing ordinary tasks that require my attention."

"So—"

Snape talked over Harry, "For example—I do believe you have your wand, do you not, Mr. Potter?" Harry nodded and pulled his wand out of his robe for emphasis. Snape continued, "You are also capable of a simple summoning charm?" Harry narrowed his eyes. "A sensible action would have been to _accio_ your belongings. Or, if you have your heart set on physically retrieving your books, you could have walked at a brisk pace, rather than bounding down the halls like an idiot."

"Hey, I—"

"And if you continue to act in such an idiotic manner," Snape rebuked, "I will send you to bed like a small child." Harry opened his mouth. "I suggest you study."

Harry glared, but when Snape turned away to continue his grading, Harry had nothing to do but start in on his schoolwork. He told himself that he was tired of arguing, so he didn't feel as if he had been defeated. Besides, he might as well give in to Snape, on these trivial matters. That way, when he had something worth fighting over, he could stand his ground and catch the man off guard.

For a little while, nothing but the sound of scratching quills and shifting parchment filled the air. Harry's frustration with Snape quickly went away. Being completely honest, Harry liked that Snape was being all fussy. The thought of Snape being considered "fussy" caused Harry to snigger a little. The sound, in turn, caused a short pause in the movement of Snape's quill.

Harry was halfway through his reading assignment, when a sudden thought came to him. He didn't know how to ask… He knew Snape would prefer he get straight to the point, so Harry just blurted it out. "Why did Lucius rescue us?" Harry shivered a little, remembering how the man had tortured him… why would Lucius randomly rescue him? Was he really that loyal to Snape… it didn't fit.

Snape set down his quill and rested his head in his hands. He didn't look like he wanted to talk about it and, for a while, Harry didn't think he would. Finally, Snape responded, "He owed me a life debt." Snape moved the hair out of his face, "When Draco was a toddler, I saved his life."

"Well then, wouldn't _Draco_ owe you?"

Snape sighed, "With children, it doesn't work like that."

"So, is that why he said I wasn't your son?" Harry asked. He remembered the day, when Lucius rescued them. Lucius had protested taking Harry along, because the boy wasn't actually Snape's son.

"Yes, Potter," Snape replied, sounding impatient.

Harry stopped asking questions and went back to reading. After a while, he had a hard time focusing on his transfiguration text. Something was bugging him too much. Unable to stay quiet any longer, Harry spoke. "Um…Snape?" The man looked up. "You know, when you talk to me… if you're happy—er, not angry. You always call me Harry. But when you get annoyed, I turn into 'Mr. Potter.' And then, when you're really mad, I suddenly become 'Potter.'"

"And?" Snape pressed.

"_And_," Harry emphasized, "I think you should call me Harry all the time." When Snape didn't respond, Harry continued, "I guess I should still be 'Mr. Potter' in class, but well, it just seems weird or something… Like I revert back to a person you hate whenever you're angry."

Snape leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to think. "Perhaps, you should stop calling me Snape all the time, and find something more respectful," he replied. "Then perhaps, I will consider altering my own behavior."

Harry bit his lip. "I thought you didn't care," he said, mostly to himself. "Er, just never mind." Quickly, he refocused his attention on the book before him.

Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, he said, "No, I don't. But I must insist, in classes or around other professors, I prefer Professor Snape." Harry looked up. "However, in private, you may use Snape." Harry nodded. The corners of Snape's mouth slightly turned up, "After all, you're no longer the bratty baby constantly hollering 'Nape.'"

Harry blushed, "Er—"

Snape held up his hand, waving off Harry's response, "From now on I will endeavor to call you Harry."

xxxxx

Around noon, Snape told Harry to go eat lunch, and then the man disappeared off to one of the many rooms in Grimmauld Place. Harry was a little curious as to where Snape went; he knew it wasn't the bedroom Snape usually used. He decided to explore and find out—after he had something to eat.

He found Remus setting out a platter of sandwiches, along with some sort of fruit salad and a couple of mugs of pumpkin juice. "Mrs. Weasley insisted that I make sure you eat a sandwich and plenty of fruit," Remus said, without even turning to Harry.

For a moment, Harry stood there awestruck. He had barely entered the room and he really didn't think he had made all that much noise. Self consciously, Harry sniffed himself, wondering if it was Remus' heightened sense of smell that gave him away. Shrugging it off, Harry walked over and sat down at the table. He didn't have any trouble eating, his appetite being stronger now than he ever remembered it.

"I'm going to be leaving tomorrow," Remus said, "after breakfast."

"'m…Why?" Harry said with his mouth full.

"Albus has asked me to return to the wolf pack," Remus replied. Harry suddenly noticed how tired and worn the man was. "The full moon is only two days away." Involuntarily, Harry shuddered. He hated the thought of his friend with all those werewolves. "And as you know," Remus' continued, "I have the Ferratilis Potion in me, which makes me an added threat towards you."

The man sounded so sorrowful, it nearly broke Harry's heart. He wanted to tell Remus about his Godfather status. He was waiting, though, until all the paperwork came back from the ministry. "Will I be able to see you again?" Harry asked. "And I mean sometime before the end of the school year, or before I get seriously hurt again."

"You'd better not get injured again," Remus scolded. "And I was planning on asking Severus if we could have a visit around Boxing Day. The timing is great as far as the moon's cycle. That is, if you want to."

"I'd love to," Harry beamed. "I can ask him myself, you know. It might be harder for him to say no to me."

"Yes," Remus replied, "I was a little nervous about asking him, to be honest."

Harry laughed and then wiped his face on his napkin, "Well, I'll go find him." He sprinted up the stairs before Remus could reply. He nearly sprinted up the next set of stairs before he remembered Snape's warning to take it easy. There was no use in angering the man before he even had a chance to ask about seeing Remus.

First, he checked Snape's room. He knocked tentatively on the door and when he didn't hear a response, he slowly opened it. The room looked the same as he'd seen before, as much as he could recall anyway. The last time he'd been there, he was five and the werewolves were coming… and the time before that—well the door had been repaired, so he'd rather not think about his crazy rummaging the night he'd nearly killed Snape and run off to the department of mysteries. In fact, the mere thought of stupid mistakes found Harry backing out of the room and closing Snape's door with a soft click.

Next, Harry checked the study. Even though he was sure the man was done grading essays, he figured Snape might have decided to work on lesson plans. Harry'd been surprised when he was deaged to see how much work Snape had to put into his class, even in the summer. Now, the professor was itching to get back to Hogwarts, complaining about how chaotic his classes were. Apparently, the headmaster hadn't been able to find a professor to cover Snape's absence. Instead, other professors filled in whenever possible and even some seventh year students had been asked to teach the younger years. As a result, potion accidents more than doubled, the students were behind, and ingredient stores were nearly depleted.

When he verified that the study was empty, Harry wandered over to the makeshift potions lab. Snape had gotten tired of having to move cauldrons and supplies every time the order came over. So Snape had transfigured the bed in one of the unused bedrooms into a long table and filled the bookshelves with his ingredients. The desk held several open volumes of potion books as Snape brewed no less than a dozen potions at a time. With the heavy drapes always pulled closed, the room had the same dungeon feel Harry was accustomed to seeing Snape in.

Finding the room empty, Harry briefly glanced at the potions. They were all held in stasis, so Harry realized that Snape wouldn't be back anytime soon. Baffled, Harry decided to wander around on the third floor. He wasn't sure where Snape would be, but he knew the man was somewhere in the house. Walking out of the room, Harry was scratching his head when he ran into someone… the last person he expected to see.

"Do watch where you're walking," Draco drawled.

In an instant, Harry had his wand drawn. He didn't know how Draco could have gotten into Grimmauld Place, but it wasn't a good sign. "How did you get here?" Harry snapped.

Draco folded his arms and leaned back against the opposite wall. "A bit touchy are we?" Draco asked. "As I recall, we arrived together." Harry noticed, despite Draco's arrogant attitude, the boy looked quite haggard. His usually primped golden locks were disheveled, under his eyes were large black circles, and his pale skin was even paler than normal. A part of Harry wanted to feel sympathy for his nemesis; Draco had lost his parents after all. "Are you going to just stand there with your mouth hanging open, or are you going to say something?"

"Why are you _still_ here?" Harry asked, keeping his wand up. "Surely you have some sort of family to go to."

"Well my parents are _dead_," Draco replied, he didn't sound sorrowful at all. "As a result, I'm stuck with my blood traitor of a godfather."

Harry didn't notice the last part of Draco's statement. Instead, he started shouting. "Your father deserved to die!" Harry would not feel guilty about that man's death, even if it was because Lucius had rescued him and Snape.

Draco's face twisted in anger, but his voice stayed calm. "Ah, did my father hurt you," he taunted. "You know, the Dark Lord will get you again." Draco's voice was so quiet and calm, that Harry involuntarily shuddered. Draco noticed and smirked.

"Get out of my house!" Harry ordered, "You have no right to be here."

"Now really, Potter—"

"Out!" Harry raised his wand. Draco's eyes flashed with a touch of fear and his hand reached towards his own wand. "_Accio_ wand," Harry called before Draco could get it. The wand flew from Draco's pocket and Harry caught it easily. "Now get out of my house, before I curse you." Without any other choice, Draco lunged at Harry in an attempt to get his wand back. "_Immobulus_," Harry shouted. Draco was frozen, his arms reaching out towards Harry with a look of rage on his face. "_Wingardium leviosa_," Harry said next, and soon he had Draco's body floating in the air. "I suppose I'll have to take you out myself."

"Harry James Potter!" Snape shouted. "What do you think you're doing?" Harry had the grace to look guilty, a little. "Put Draco down!"

The pace at which Snape was stalking down the halls was a bit frightening, so Harry reacted quickly. "_Finite Incantatem_," Harry said, ending both spells at once. Draco fell to the ground with a thud and then gracelessly scrambled to his feet.

"Give me back my wand," Draco demanded.

Harry ignored him and turned to Snape, "What is _he_ doing in my house!"

"Lower your wand, Mr. Potter," Snape sneered, "before I take it away."

Harry lowered his wand, but kept it pointed towards Draco. "I want him out of my house," Harry demanded.

"I'll have none of this attitude," Snape replied. "Now put your wand away and give Draco's his back." Slowly, Harry put his wand away, but made no move to return Draco's. Growing impatient, Snape grabbed Draco's wand out of Harry's hand and returned it himself. "Draco is not going anywhere," Snape snapped. "I suggest you accept it and calm down."

"You can't have him sneaking around here," Harry complained. "I won't be able to sleep. I'll wake up and have him looming over me."

"Oh, I'm hurt," Draco mocked. "And here I thought we'd be one big happy family."

"Draco," Snape warned.

"What?!" Harry shouted.

"Severus didn't tell you?" Draco said in a false sweet tone. "He's my godfather. Now with my parents dead, he's got custody of me."

"That can't possibly be true," Harry retorted. "Snape would never adopt you."

Draco's face twisted into a sneer, "Oh yeah?" Draco raised his wand, "And why is that?"

Harry raised his own wand, countless spells running through his mind. "Snape would have told me," Harry replied.

"Apparently not," Draco taunted.

"_Accio_ wands," Snape said just in time. Both wands came flying towards him.

"Hey!" both Harry and Draco shouted at once.

"I will keep these, until you both learn some control," Snape replied.

"You have no right to take my wand!" Draco yelled.

"Draco," Snape warned his tone cold. Draco shut his mouth and rolled his eyes.

"You! You're Malfoy's guardian now," Harry shouted, "and you didn't bother to tell me?! You know I hate him!"

"Boys, you will not shout at me—"

"I want him out of my house now," Harry ordered.

"Potter, go to your room," Snape directed in a cool tone.

"Yes, Potter—"

"Draco, hush!"

"I can't believe you've adopted him, too," Harry raged. "And you didn't think to tell me? Like this doesn't affect me at all. The son of a Death Eater? He'll constantly be after me. This is my house and I say he goes! He's not welcome here, he—"

"Potter, go to your room, now," Snape said, his voice growing louder. Harry held his ground, opening his mouth to yell again. "NOW!" Snape shouted. He raised his hand, holding onto his wand, and pointed down the hallway.

Harry flinched; eyeing the wand cautiously, he felt more vulnerable now, because he didn't have his wand. He wondered what Snape would do if he refused to do as he was told. He didn't want to find out, not because he was afraid, but because it hurt. "Fine," Harry muttered. He turned to walk down the hallway. Calling over his shoulder, he said, "You should owl the ministry. There's probably still time stop the adoption. I won't go anywhere with you, no matter what you do."

"Potter—" Snape called, but Harry didn't stop. Once he was down the first set of stairs, he sprinted for the rest of the way to his room.

xxxxx

For a while, Harry sat on his bed, staring at the door. He half expected Snape to stomp in and yell for a little while, until—somehow—things got sorted out. He regretted telling Snape to owl the ministry… Harry wasn't happy about Malfoy, but was he really angry enough to stop the adoption? _What if Snape__** was**__ owling the ministry…_ Frustrated, Harry shook his head, _it couldn't be that easy, could it? To mess everything up…_

Standing up abruptly, Harry couldn't sit any longer. He was still angry, but he wanted to talk it out with Snape. He wanted to make things right again. He knew, though, that he couldn't go to Snape angry. The man would just send him to his room again. Harry's cheeks burned… he couldn't believe Snape treated him like that in front of Malfoy. _Draco Malfoy…_Harry hated that boy… _how could Snape adopt Malfoy?_

Making his way to the bathroom, Harry decided to wash his face. The cool water sometimes helped sooth his anger and he needed to calm down. He'd need to go find Snape and have their talk, otherwise he'd need to go find Remus… Harry still didn't like to be alone.

Harry briefly held his hands under the running tap and then quickly splashed his face. The cold water was a bit of a shock, but it did the trick. Again, he splashed his face and then stood up. Looking in the mirror, he studied his face. The water dripped down his cheeks and onto his clothes, but he didn't mind. He was more interested in how pale he looked… if he thought Draco looked bad…

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement in the mirror. Quickly, he turned around, intently looking at the room. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up… he wasn't alone. Swallowing deeply, Harry tried to shake off his nervousness… _I don't need some sort of babysitter!_

Seeing that the room was, in fact, empty, Harry turned back to the mirror. Tentatively, he picked up his towel and began to dry his face. The strange feeling wouldn't go away, but he shrugged it off… lately, he didn't feel very comfortable on his own.

Oddly, Harry's ears began to ring. He tried scratching at one and then shook his head. Hanging the towel on the rack, Harry quickly scanned the immediate area for the source of the ringing. The pitch and intensity of the sound increased, until his head started to hurt. In desperation, Harry covered his ears with his hands, but that did nothing to muffle the sound. It was coming from within.

Catching sight of the mirror, Harry started, his breath caught... For a moment, Harry swore he saw Mrs. Black staring back at him. But just as quick, the image was gone. _I'm going loony_, Harry thought. He tried to go to the door. He needed to find Snape, but the pain in his head was becoming too much. Wincing, his legs dropped, bringing him to his knees. Gasping for breath, the rest of his body fell forward and his face hit the floor with a crunch—his glasses were broken. But that didn't matter now; he felt like the world slipping away as he nearly passed out.

Slowly, his sense of reality returned to him. Harry stayed in his crouched position for a moment, worried that the intense pain would return. Instead it remained a dull throb, but he knew something wasn't right. His breathing was still heavy, and the air seemed too thick and stale. Harry wondered if perhaps he really did overdo it, by running to his room…

Standing up, he quickly glanced backwards at the now empty mirror, just in case. Making it to his room, he noticed how dark it was. He'd thought that Remus had taken the drapes down permanently, but the man must have put them back while Harry was looking for Snape. After all, Remus was going away soon and probably didn't want to leave things messed up. Harry didn't like it; the darkened room made him feel trapped.

Opening the door, he looked up and down the halls before leaving the room, just in case Malfoy might be lurking by. He didn't care what Snape said; as soon as Malfoy had the chance, he'd try and catch Harry off guard.

Cautiously, Harry made his way towards the stairs. A frigid burst of air blew past him, taking his breath away. _Someone must have left a window open somewhere_, Harry thought, wrapping his arms around himself for extra warmth.

Harry checked the usual places for Snape again, the make shift potions lab, the study and the man's bedroom, but everything looked abandoned. He didn't want to go up, poking around where Malfoy must be staying, so instead, he went down.

Just before entering the kitchen, Harry knew Snape must be there, and brewing something disgusting. The smell of rotten food and jars of dead animals wafted from the room. "Ew, Snape, what are you brewing?" Harry asked, waving his hand in front of his nose as he entered. "Look, I know you're mad, but I need to tell you—" Harry stopped, the room was empty and the smell was suddenly gone. Harry swallowed and sniffed the air more deeply… he was sure it had stunk before—but now, there was nothing.

Tired and still feeling sore, Harry decided to sit and wait at the table for Snape. He knew the man hadn't had lunch, yet, so eventually (hopefully sooner than later) Snape would come down to eat. Folding his arms on the table, Harry slouched forward to rest his head. Looking across the table, Harry suddenly noticed a plate filled with chocolate frogs. Funny, I hadn't noticed it before. Harry smiled to himself, realizing that Remus must have gotten them as a surprise.

Scooting down the bench, Harry reached out and took the top box. Quickly, he opened the package and watched the frog jump free. Even though he'd had countless chocolate frogs since he'd come to Hogwarts, it was always fascinating to see the lifelike candy hopping about.

Grabbing the now still chocolate, Harry took a big bite as he examined his wizard card. Curiously, the picture was black and there was no writing where the wizard's name and description should be. Turning the card over several times more, Harry shrugged to himself; _they must have forgotten to add the wizard_. He finished the frog and decided to eat another. He had just bitten off the head, when he realized the second card was blank as well. Reacting without thinking, Harry swallowed the mouthful of chocolate, but instantly regretted it. Moving his tongue around his mouth, he tried to detect anything off with the taste. At the same time, he opened several other chocolate frogs, each containing the same blank card.

Suddenly worried, Harry looked around the kitchen. He really had no idea where the frogs were from and he felt stupid for eating them. "Snape," he called, "Remus…" _What if Draco had planted the chocolate?_ Now he was just being paranoid. All at once, a wave of dizziness hit him, causing him to sit down on the bench.

_Breathe_, Harry thought, _don't_ _panic… there's nothing wrong_— But even as he thought it, he knew it wasn't true.

The silence was broken by the sound of cackling. Harry looked around the room again, but it was still empty. "Poor little half-blood," a voice taunted. Harry held his breath, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He recognized the voice; after all, he'd heard Mrs. Black's portrait yelling often enough. But he knew the painting was gone…

"Yes, you're worried aren't you," Mrs. Black continued, Harry saw her now, coming up from the black depths of the card. "Not a very intelligent wizard, are you?" her voice amplified as several other cards filled with the image of Mrs. Black. "No, you're not worthy, not worthy at all to own the House of Black." Harry tried to respond, but his tongue felt thick and sluggish. "Don't worry," Mrs. Black comforted, "the poison is fast. You won't suffer long."

Harry's head became heavy, forcing him to rest it on the table. He blinked, and suddenly the cards were gone, along with the platter of chocolate frogs. He tried to move, tried to get up and find help…

"Snape," Harry rasped.

xxxxx

Severus sat in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee. He'd finally managed to get Draco out of his room and Potter had to throw a fit. Again, he was forced to send up Draco's lunch and the boy spent yet another day huddled in his room. Well, he wouldn't indulge the boy by eating with him. No, Severus would enjoy his cup of coffee and one of Mrs. Weasley's sandwiches while he read the Daily Prophet. At least the wolf was gone, temporarily off to his own room to pack. Soon, even better, Grimmauld Place would be wolf-free and Severus wouldn't have to see the man… for a while. No doubt Harry would insist on seeing the werewolf again.

_Harry_. Severus tried to focus on the Prophet, but he had a nagging feeling that he should be checking up on the boy. He was going soft and it was unnerving him. Well, he would never allow the boy to yell at him and order him about. If Harry thought he was going to get away with acting like a brat, he was in for a surprise. Perhaps, although he grudgingly admitted it, Potter did have a point… he should have said something about Draco. But he knew Harry would throw a fit and act irrationally. If he'd said something before, Harry would be a ward of the ministry. And the fool, Cornelius Fudge, would have Harry secreted away to some location, only to be captured by Death Eaters within a week. Severus didn't regret his decision and he wouldn't apologize to the boy.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to see the boy… to talk to him and make sure Harry was okay. Severus shook his head; he wasn't a sentimental fool. The man suddenly realized that he never worried over things needlessly… He couldn't ignore his instincts. Not again… Last time, when he went to check on Harry, he was too late and the boy had been abducted.

That decided, Severus got up and made his way to Harry's room. He knew the boy had listened to him, because he'd checked… with a tracking spell, to make sure Harry had done as he was told.

_Stupid boy_, Severus thought. Of course, he didn't trust Draco in the house. He was aware of what Draco was capable of, more so than Harry.

The foolish, doting Molly Weasley had set up Draco's room right across the hall. So that the 'poor dear' would be nearby in case he needed anything. She was so naïve; it was a good thing the boy had still been wallowing in his grief by the time Severus was well enough to be lucid. As soon as he could, he'd ordered the boy be moved farther away and asked Albus to have an order member stand guard. Once Draco was over his grief, he'd look for revenge… and Severus didn't know who Draco blamed.

Since he'd been able to hobble out of his room, Severus had put a tracking spell on both Harry and Draco. He'd know the moment they came near each other, and had planned to stop any sort of altercation before they occurred... obviously his plan had flaws.

At least Harry was prepared to defend himself. He'd briefly entertained the idea that Harry would somehow be scarred by his captivity… be a quaking ball of fear whenever someone threatened him. Severus had seen it before, even with the strongest of men. Yet, he had to admit, Harry was different. He had a strong sense of resilience, even through the toughest of situations. It was almost admirable—_if_ the boy didn't whine so much.

Severus wondered again, _why did I offer to adopt the boy?_ He wasn't a patient man, nor was he loving and caring… just as Mrs. Weasley had said. Severus was even more confused by why Harry had accepted his offer. And how would he manage with both Draco and Harry?

Nearing Harry's door, he had the distinct feeling that something was off. He rapped his knuckles on the wood—no answer. "Harry, I'm going to come in whether or not you approve." He sure hoped the boy wasn't brooding. He'd sent Harry off to calm down, not grow more temperamental. He waited a moment before opening the door.

The room was empty and still messy. He'd have a chat about how Harry would need to keep his bedroom in order. The house elves would not wait on him hand and foot. _Why were the drapes all over the floor?_ Severus thought.

"Harry, where are you? Come out and talk to me," Severus called, as he made his way to the bathroom. The door was open, so he felt no reservations about poking his head in. _If the boy was hiding like an idiot… _The bathroom was empty. "Potter!" Severus cursed under his breath. Pulling out his wand, he activated his tracking spell.

Severus' breath caught. Harry was gone.

xxxxx

Let me know what you think! Reviews with constructive criticism, suggestions, encouragement, or a nice hello are always welcome.


	25. Unreality

It's been ages since I've updated, so if you can't remember what's happened in my story, here's a brief reminder:

Voldemort used a potion to control werewolves (the ferratilis potion) and sent them after Harry. Snape rescued him and brought him back to Grimmauld Place. There he discovered a dark artifact, put it on, and went crazy. In that state, he went to the Department of Mysteries to rescue Sirius from the veil only to be deaged to a baby. Afterwards, Snape took care of Harry, creating a potion to bring Harry back to his sixteen-year-old self. He was briefly five and went to his relatives only to discover they too were infected with the ferratilis potion, which was slowly killing them. Harry returned to school an eleven year old, and then was later aged to sixteen. He was captured in the hallway one night when he was on his way to see Snape. He was taken to Voldemort and tortured for four days before he and Snape were rescued by Lucius. Lucius and Narcissa were later killed, while Draco, Snape, and Harry escaped to Grimmauld Place. There, they recovered; Snape adopted Harry (and also gained custody of his godson Draco). Harry then fought with Draco, and was sent to his room. After a while of waiting for Snape to come, Harry decided to go find the man. First, he went to the bathroom and washed his face; there he heard an odd ringing in his ears, which turned to pain and he passed out. After that he looked for Snape only to discover a plate of chocolate frogs in the kitchen. He ate one and some of another, until he realized that they were poisoned. Meanwhile, Snape went to Harry's room to look for the boy, only to discover Harry was gone from Grimmauld Place…

**Chapter 25: Unreality**

Harry, unable to move, stared out across the table. He couldn't believe that he'd been stupid enough to eat some mysterious chocolate frogs. Those same frogs had completely disappeared, probably so that Snape would be unable to create an antidote for whatever poison he'd injested. It was odd, though, how the poison was acting on his body. At first, it'd been relatively fast. One moment, Harry was eating and the next he was unable to move. Now. though, his body's state seemed to level off.

_It could be doing damage I'm unaware of,_ Harry thought. His breathing sped up, the panicked feeling returning. _No!_ Harry told himself. He was not going to panic; he had decided that earlier.

So far, the poison had only caused dizziness and a little bit of pain. And then, of course, he was unable to move. Harry tried to jerk his arms. It was annoying that he couldn't move, that was for sure. And he felt completely vulnerable, waiting for Draco to come and hex him at any moment. But those were his only symptoms.

He didn't understand the point of this poisoning. Surely Draco would have entered the kitchen by now. _Unless the idiot had gotten himself caught,_ Harry thought smugly. But even if Draco had been caught, s_omeone_ else would have come to the kitchen by now.

_Unless the others have been poisoned, too,_ Harry realized with a start. He tried to pull up his head, move his legs, or even wiggle his fingers. Again, Harry calmed himself; he was not going to panic.

The situation seemed so odd. Why wasn't _anyone_ coming? Draco, Snape, Remus, even a random person through the floo _or an enemy_, Harry shuddered. But the manor was quiet, _too quiet._

Harry had spent a lot of time at Grimmauld Place this last summer, and even with the portraits, magical creature infestations, and most dark artifacts gone, the house itself seemed to constantly creak and groan. In fact, even before he ate the chocolate frogs, the house had seemed off. Ever since…

_The bathroom, _Harry gasped. At the same time, his body jerked and he found himself falling to the floor. He hadn't been able to move his arms to protect himself when he fell, smacking his cheek sharply on the stone floor. His arms, legs, and body followed, each part impacting just as painfully.

Strangely, Harry's first thought was, _I'd never expected to see the kitchen from this angle again_. Really, it'd been ages since he was a baby, and considering his current circumstances, he should be thinking about more important things. _Such as getting help!_

But Harry resigned himself to the reality that nothing was normal. In fact, it was likely that no one was coming—that no one _could_ come. Harry had to help himself as quickly as possible, so that he could find the others and help them as well. A bizarre calm came over him. Harry decided to call it "resolve."

He had to move, especially considering where he was laying. He was right next to that odd spot on the floor, created by one of Snape's overflowing potions the day Harry'd sent sparks all over the kitchen. As a baby, he'd always avoided being near it. Studying the floor as best as he could, considering he couldn't turn his neck, he was relieved to see that the spot wasn't right under his nose as he'd thought.

His relief was short lived, however. He knew the floor of Grimmauld Place's kitchen! Taking into account his body's angle, wedged in between two chairs, half under the table, the spot _should_ be there. And, he knew that spot hadn't been removed. Couldn't, in fact. The potion had permanently warped the stone.

Harry turned his neck to get a better look at the stones. _This isn't Grimmauld Place,_ Harry gulped. _It couldn't be_. His palms grew sweaty and his breathing quickened. He was growing panicked again… until, he realized, he had moved his neck.

Harry held his breath, and looked towards his left hand. Wherever he was, it wasn't real, at least in the sense that this wasn't Grimmauld Place. He had to figure out where he was, so that he could get back to where he should be. And to do that, he had to move. Tentatively, he willed his fingers to flex.

The fingers moved— easily, as if nothing had been wrong in the first place. Harry let out his breath, smiling widely at his still moving fingers.

Several minutes passed, Harry still with a silly grin on his face watching his fingers move. Finally, he remembered the bathroom, and how everything had been off since he'd passed out there. Rolling to his hands and knees, Harry pushed his body up to his feet. He figured he'd best return to the bathroom, to try and figure out where he was and how he got here. _More importantly how to get back_, he thought, taking the steps two at a time. Distantly, he considered the possibility that he might be dreaming, or perhaps still under the poison's effects, or maybe even going bonkers. But at least he could move again, and he wasn't panicking.

xxxxx

Running down the stairs as quickly as possible, Severus reached the Floo in record time. A quick incantation and he saw the name Molly Weasley dance across the hearth. He knew the boy wasn't foolish enough to run off and he didn't really think it were possible for Harry to slip past him while he'd been sitting at the table himself. But, it was the simplest… _safest_ option and now it was impossible.

Harry had been removed.

Fear, worry, dread and more… the emotions all rushed over him; he had to get Harry back. Instantly, with a skill only a master occlumens could possess, Severus siphoned all of his feelings into one. Rage. He would get Harry back. And woe to whoever got in the way. _And the person responsible… _

"Draco!" Severus called, his voice carried by his magic, even though he hadn't cast a spell. "Werewolf!" _Both of them had better be fast_, Severus decided. In the meantime, he cast his patronus, sending for Albus. And then added one to McGonagall. And the Weasleys. In fact…

_No_, Severus thought, he didn't know who could be trusted. He already regretted the sending for the Weasleys.

"Severus, what's going on?" the wolf asked, his voice completely calm, with only a small hint of curiosity.

Severus growled. How _dare _Lupin be calm! The infuriating man had always kept a tight leash on his emotions. If the wolf was trying to hide something, the only way Severus would be able to tell was Legilimency, and he had no desire to look into Lupin's animal mind. Nevertheless, Severus stared the man in the eye. "Harry is gone, presumably taken," he said.

The color in Lupin's face quickly drained, leaving behind a sickly, pale skin. Severus knew it wasn't an act; the man had never been very good at lying. "Pardon?" Lupin asked.

Severus' face twisted into his harshest glare. He wouldn't repeat himself; they didn't have time. "Check the wards, and who has apparated in or out for the past hour."

A loud pop sounded behind him. In one swift motion, Severus whipped around and pulled out his wand. A strong blasting curse was ready on the tip of his tongue, before he made eye contact with sparkling blue eyes.

Dumbledore's eyes quickly changed from cordial to focused. Severus was now seeing Albus, the leader of the Order of the Phoenix. "Harry's been taken," Severus said, his voice letting slip a hint of his alarm.

Before Dumbledore could reply, another pop was heard, as Professor McGonagall apparated in. Severus grated his teeth; he couldn't explain the situation again. He needed a plan, some sort of focus.

"Severuuus," Draco whined, his voice still up at least one flight of stairs. "What do you want now?"

Severus growled as he quickly made his way up to the stairs. He made it to the entranceway, when he saw Draco sauntering down the main staircase with a jaunty, arrogant look. That didn't help Severus' mood.

Quickly, Draco noticed the anger on his godfather's face and took a step backwards. Miscalculating the height of the stair behind him, Draco tripped.

Severus didn't pause in his pursuit. Grabbing hold of the front of Draco's robes, he said, "Do you have anything to do with Harry's disappearance?"

Draco looked back at him; his gray eyes were wide, full of confusion and fear. "N-no, Severus, I—"

Severus didn't listen to the boy's response. He knew he couldn't trust Draco's words. The boy was an experienced liar. "_Legilimens_," he incanted, slipping easily into the boy's mind.

Draco had some occlumency training, Severus knew. But like anything, Draco never took the time to practice unless he was really pressured to do so. The shields crumpled easily enough and soon Severus surveyed the boy's memories. He quickly glanced over every thought since Draco had been brought to Grimmauld Place, giving extra emphasis to the afternoon's events. There was no hint of malicious plans or secret conspiring, only sulking, whining, and more sulking. Frustrated, Severus pulled out of Draco's mind and released the boy's robes.

Draco fell back further onto the steps. The boy panted with exhaustion, and brought a hand to his head, no doubt nursing a headache. Still, the boy, foolishly, kept his eyes locked on Severus. The fear in his eyes had nearly turned into terror, but also held the pain of betrayal.

Severus felt guilty; he hadn't intended to hurt his godson. He reached out a hand to help pull Draco up, but the boy flinched back. "Draco, I—" Severus began.

"No one had apparated in or out of Grimmauld Place since this morning," Lupin said, coming up from the kitchen.

"Neither has the Floo been used," added Mrs. Weasley.

"And the wards are intact," informed Albus.

Severus turned away from Draco to look at the others. "What about a portkey?" he blurted out the moment he thought of it. He cursed himself for not thinking about it sooner.

"I've already checked," replied Mr. Weasley. There's no trace of a portkey activating.

Severus shook his head; of course there wouldn't be a trace. He knew that some portkey signatures were very subtle; he'd need to do a few scans of his own. But even then…

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Draco scramble back onto his feet as he half-crawled, half-ran up the stairs.

"Mr. Malfoy, stop," Professor McGonagall called.

"Malfoy!" Lupin yelled, jogging towards the steps.

Severus held up a hand. "Leave him be," he ordered.

"But the boy might know something!" Lupin said, climbing up the stairs.

Severus stepped in his way. "No," he said, "Draco doesn't know anything." Occluding away the guilt that tried to consume him, Severus performed as many tracing spells that he knew. If anyone had slipped in a portkey, he would discover it. He had to. He had to get Harry back.

xxxxx

As Harry made his back up to his bedroom, it became increasingly hard to maintain his "do not panic" policy, especially as he crept through the main entrance hall. Light filtered in through the windows by the door, the glow seeming too yellow to be natural. The walls around him seemed to be old, covered in a dirty charred-brown color mixed with a coppery-red that seemed to be oozing down from the ceiling. _Almost like the house is bleeding,_ Harry shuddered.

Worse than all that was the addition of Mrs. Black's portrait. It hung on the wall, in its ornate frame, as if it had never been removed. Added to that, there was no sight of the curtain that had once concealed it.

Harry swallowed thickly. So far the portrait hadn't noticed him. Mrs. Black looked past him, off into the distance as if gazing further than Grimmauld Place's walls. Quietly, Harry took a step backwards toward the stairs. He needed to get back to the bathroom and figure out what the heck was going on.

Reaching his right arm out behind him, Harry made contact with the banister. The wood was slightly damp; he could feel the distinct tree like texture, as if it had recently been cut down. Harry turned to look at the banister; it appeared polished and dry, like it always had. He ran his hand up its surface, taking a step up the stairs. It still felt rough, wet, and _alive_.

A chill ran up his spine as Harry instinctively drew his hand back. Taking a moment to calm down, he told himself again, _I will not panic_. Simultaneously, all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Slowly, breathing with shallow breaths, Harry turned to Mrs. Black's portrait.

She stared back at him.

Startled, Harry fell backwards and landed gracelessly onto the stairs. A deep-throated laughter arose from the portrait, cutting Harry straight to the bones.

It was enough to spark Harry's adrenaline, sending him scrambling to his feet and then up the stairs, two at a time. He ignored the way the walls seemed to flex and hum, as if the very house were laughing as well. He ignored the burning of his chest, as each breath drew in a musty decaying lungful of air. He ignored any and all thoughts, except _get away_.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Harry dashed into the first bedroom he encountered and then shut the door behind him. He turned towards the door and leaned against it. Bracing his feet, he pushed with all of his strength, lest something try to push its way in. At the same time, he leaned his ear against the door, listening for any sound of movement, or perhaps an increase in the volume of Mrs. Black's laughter.

He heard nothing. Relaxing his body marginally, the adrenaline rush left him. Harry tried to calm his breathing. Repeating his mantra, _I will not panic,_ in his head, he wanted to cry. His hands were shaking and his knees were weak. But he hadn't the time to relax; he berated himself for not running all the way to his own room. It was stupid, because now he'd have to work up the courage to open the door and walk down the hall. Harry sagged a little, giving more of his weight to the door; he'd faced things far more dangerous than a portrait!

Harry's thought's flashed to an image; long slender fingers, holding loosely to the serpent headed wand. Behind it, Lucius' face scowled, but his eyes held a glint of intense joy. Harry shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, as a tear escaped down his cheek. He forced himself to think of something else.

He couldn't panic; he couldn't let his fear control him. Reaching for the door handle, Harry took a deep breath. A giggling behind him made him freeze.

xxxxx

"Severus, you have to listen," Mr. Weasley urged.

Severus scoffed, sparing one moment to think;_ no I don't __**have**__ to do anything._ He kept pacing up and down the hall, repeating again any and all tracing spells he knew. As far as he could detect, no magic—nothing at all— had been cast since he'd sent Harry and Draco to their rooms save his own charms and two packing spells. He'd already ripped Lupin's suitcases apart in a fit of… rage… panic? Severus didn't know what to think of it.

"Harry must still be in the house," he distantly heard Mr. Weasley continue.

Severus had looked through Harry's room twice more, banishing the drapes that had cluttered the floor. The little owl window, the only one capable of opening, he'd checked for any weakness in the wards. Nothing had passed through since Hedwig the night before.

"There's no evidence that Harry has been taken," Mr. Weasley said again. Severus ignored him.

It was impossible for Harry to just _vanish_. He performed all the tracking spells he knew; the boy was nowhere. There were only seven humans in the house, Draco, the Weasleys, the wolf, the Headmaster, McGonagall and himself. He rediscovered that the boggart still inhabited the drawing room's desk drawer, and sent a colony of pixies from a third floor cupboard into oblivion.

"We need to search the house more closely," Mr. Weasley prattled on.

Severus was well aware of the inane search parties now being conducted by the headmaster. The others had all split up to search the house, top to bottom, leaving no room, bathroom, or cupboard untouched. Severus growled in frustration; it would do no good. The boy wasn't in the house. But Harry hadn't left either, Severus realized. Nor was he taken, by any recent Death Eater means— and it was highly doubtful that some dark artifact had been sent a couple days ago, only to act now. So the Death Eaters were ruled out, Harry hadn't left, and he wasn't there.

Hit with inspiration, Severus headed to the drawing room. In a sense, Harry had vanished— out of existence, so to speak. To what existence, was the question. No time turner had been used, Severus was sure, so Harry wasn't in another time. In fact, no magical artifact had been activated. And no spell, _traceable spell_, Severus corrected, had been used against the boy. At least, nothing cast in the past couple of days, but that said nothing of the ancient wards. The one force—the one culprit Severus hadn't thought to check…

The noble and ancient house of Black.

xxxxx

Harry couldn't ignore the giggles. Nor—he decided—would he panic. Besides, the laughter sounded young and childish. So, once again taking a deep breath, Harry turned around. He nearly joined the laughter himself, thinking he'd been afraid of what he'd see.

Instead, he found the room the opposite of anything scary. It was a children's playroom, filled will all sorts of magical toys. Cluttered and messy, the room was obviously well used. Across the room, a small boy pushed against another door, somewhat mirroring Harry's previous stance. The boy was young, perhaps six or seven and giggling like mad.

"Hello," Harry called to the boy. "Who are you?"

The boy ignored him, or didn't seem to hear and kept pushing the door shut. Something on the other side of the door banged. Harry jumped.

"Let me out," a little voiced whined.

Harry started to make his way over, stepping carefully so as to avoid the numerous toys.

"And why should I let you out?" said the boy between giggles.

"Because I'll tell Mum if you don't," a voice replied.

"You can't tell Mum if I don't let you out."

There was a long silence and the pounding on the door stopped. The boy Harry could see stopped his giggling and leaned his ear against the door. In the silence, Harry could make out pitiful sobs coming from the other side of the door.

"I'm scared, Siri," the voice cried. Harry gasped, and took a closer look at the boy in front of him. "It's dark," the voice continued to weep. "A- and I gotta go potty."

"Oh, fine," the boy called Siri said, pulling the door open. "But don't tell Mum," he warned. As the door opened, Harry saw a little boy step out of a tiny dark closet. The little boy, probably four years old, had tear-streaked cheeks. Harry noticed the older boy, 'Siri' roll his eyes. "Don't be such a baby, Regulus," he chided.

Sniffling, Regulus made his way across the room. The boy was slow at first, but then sped up as he got closer to the hall. He opened the door, but before he left, he turned back towards Siri. "I'm telling mummy on you," he taunted. Siri's eyes grew large and Regulus slammed the door shut.

For a moment, Harry stared at the boy in front of him. This 'Siri' definitely looked like a small boy version of his godfather. That was obvious.

"Sirius?" he asked, appalled as to why the boy didn't notice him.

The boy continued to look at the door his brother had left through, chewing on his lip. For a moment, Harry had thought he'd somehow traveled into the past, and this was the real Sirius as a boy... _maybe I can save him_. But then that thought quickly passed. This must be something else, a memory perhaps.

Not quite ready to give up hope, Harry reached out to touch Sirius' shoulder. It made contact. "Sirius," he repeated.

With a snap, Sirius' head turned to meet his. Harry let out a breath as they made eye contact. The little boy's eyes held innocence and wonder. Of course, there was a small amount of fear—the look of a boy trying to figure his way out of trouble.

"Who are you?" the boy asked with curiosity.

"I'm Harry," he replied. Wanting to say more, but not knowing what, Harry just continued to stare at the boy in wonder. Perhaps there was a way to warn Sirius. He knew he couldn't stay in this time, with this boy Sirius. But if somehow he managed to give Sirius instructions, to stay behind instead of following him to the Department of Mysteries… sure it would be odd, Harry realized, as he noticed Sirius studying him. An odd glint passed by Harry's eyes, startling him for a moment, until he remembered that this was Sirius after all… and just a boy too.

"You're not supposed to be here are you?" Sirius asked innocently.

"No, I suppose not," Harry replied. "I'm from the future, I think. I need to find a way to get back.  
"Really?!" Sirius' eyes grew wide.

"Yes, do you—"

Harry was cut off by an all too familiar voice. "Sirius!" Mrs. Black bellowed; it didn't sound like the woman was constrained by a portrait either.

Sirius gasped, looking quickly towards the door leading to the hall. "If my mum doesn't want you here," he explained quickly, "then she'll be mad when she finds you. She'll make you leave." Sirius chewed on his lip. "You've got to hide," he decided. "I won't tell, I promise." Sirius opened the door to the little closet and motioned for Harry to get in.

Harry did as the boy directed, but stopped the door from shutting. "What?" he said. He knew it was highly unlikely that the boy could help him get back, but it was worth a try. "I think something happened in the bathroom," he said in a rush. "I got a headache and there was an odd sound. When I woke up, I was here, in this time…"

Sirius scrunched his face up, thinking hard. "Stay quiet," he said. "Hide in the closet. You'll be safe here, I promise." Sirius thought some more, "And, and don't go back to the bathroom, okay? It's bad; it hurt you. You don't need to go back there."

Harry nodded, and pulled his hand back. The door shut, leaving him in darkness, save the small strip of light on the floor. "Sirius," Harry whispered, "when your mum leaves, come back for me, okay?"

There was no response. The shadows in the strip of light shifted a bit, until they were gone.

Harry leaned against the back wall of the closet, sliding down until he was sitting. Pulling his knees to his chest, he sat and waited for Sirius to return. He felt odd for a moment, considering the situation. But he really didn't have any other options, did he? Somehow, he'd gotten himself trapped in the past, or so it seemed. Or had he… he had a nagging feeling he was forgetting something.

xxxxx

Severus sat on the couch in the drawing room. For a while, he had stubbornly tried to stand, convinced that, if Harry was suffering, he'd better be doing something more than sitting around. But after a while, it became awkward to hold onto the book and he gave in. Mr. Weasley had left a while ago, confused as to what he was doing, but Severus didn't mind, he could do with less distraction.

The old tome he was reading was nearly falling apart. The book was simply titled "Wards," but it was the oldest book on wards he'd encountered. He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for, but he remembered Lucius mentioning something once, a lot time ago. In fact, it was back when Draco was born, and he'd been named the boy's godfather. Which meant if Lucius and Narcissa died, Severus would be the acting heir of the Malfoy fortunes. Then, if Draco died after that, well Severus would be the actual heir. And Lucius, being Lucius, took the time to point out to Severus, that some of the estates were warded against falling into the hands of anyone less than pureblood. Severus, curious as to what that meant, asked Lucius and the man responded by saying the owner would "vanish." Which, at the time, Severus didn't really take seriously. Surely Lucius was trying to scare him… but Severus was taking it seriously now.

The book had a whole category of wards that could protect a house from future owners, but they were so old Severus had figured they were just a myth. Hence, he studied the oldest book on wards he could find. And, to his surprise, there was a whole chapter on these wards, called "Inheritance Protection." They did a whole range of things, from protecting a manor from being demolished, to being repainted an undesired color. But he saw nothing about vanishing an undesirable owner.

All the wards, though, had to be linked to something specific. Some object that was likely to stay throughout time. The wards were tricky, too, because they had to be given a bit of a personality and some intelligence, in order to subvert future wizards' plans. One example the book listed was to maintain the grounds layout. The front gate, or preferably the perimeter's fence, could be implanted with the "intelligent ward." From where the object sat, the wards would "watch" the grounds. If a future heir tried to remove trees or plant a hedge in an unwanted location, the "intelligent ward" could use any means to stop him. Usually, this included interfering with the wizard's spells, breaking his or her tools, or could go as far as injuring the offender.

_But nothing_, Severus growled, _mentioned __**vanishing**_

He did have one clue, though; he knew that the wards—_if it were wards_—had to be linked to something specific. Severus also knew that Harry had gone to his room and likely vanished from there. If he knew Harry at all, the boy hadn't left the room and instead waited, perhaps sulking, until Severus said he could leave. At the very least, Harry might have wandered to Severus' room, which still kept the potential area low. So Severus decided to inspect the rooms for any concentrated wards, or perhaps normal objects acting like magical artifacts.

As he made his way over to Harry's room, Severus noticed a movement down the hall. Someone had stepped quickly into his own room, and that gained Severus' attention. Whoever it was, he hadn't wanted to be seen, judging by how quickly the body had moved. Being quiet, Severus crept as quietly as possible down the hall and paused outside his doorway. The idiot who'd tried to sneak into his room had left the door ajar—an obvious mistake as far as Severus was concerned. He never left his door opened. Listening intently, he waited until he heard the sound of rustling paper. Pulling out his wand, he leapt into the doorway.

He quickly recognized the boy. Scowling, he spoke in his deadliest of warning tones, "Draco Malfoy." The boy, who'd been rifling through the paperwork on his desk, froze. "Pray tell, what are you doing in my room?"

"I-er," Draco started, still not moving a muscle. Severus started to walk closer. Draco quickly dropped the parchments he was holding and turned to face his guardian. "I just want my wand," Draco whined.

Severus was shocked to note the level of fear still present in Draco's face. The boy's hands even shook, as he tried to back further away from the dour Potions Master. Severus studied the boy a bit more, before he looked down to the paperwork on his desk.

Although the paperwork was confidential, it wasn't _that_ important. Considering the boy's nervousness, Severus expected it to be worse. But the documents were merely an outline of Harry's trust, all the accounts and properties the boy would once again control when he'd come of age… except… something was off.

Glaring at Draco, he gave the boy a wordless command to stay put. In one swift movement, he scooped up the deed to Grimmauld Place. At the bottom, just below the name of Sirius Black was Harry Potter's.

"Severus, listen I—"

"Hush," Severus snapped. Below Potter's name, ever so lightly, a new name was beginning to form. Severus had to squint to read it, but it quickly became obvious, "Draco Malfoy."

Just as Severus came to the realization, the boy paled. "Look, I know—"

Severus glared and spoke with a low, harsh voice, "What have you done?"

Remarkably, Draco's complexion lost even more color. "Severus," Draco pleaded, "please listen. I came looking for my wand. Honest. I- I just noticed that myself. I swear."

For a moment, Severus considered using legilimency on the boy again. The thought, though, broke through his glare. He knew the boy hadn't done anything to Harry, including making any plans to harm Harry in the future. Sighing, Severus turned back to the parchment. "Do you know what could do this?" he asked, his tone holding no more animosity.

Draco shuffled. "Well, I should think the most obvious would be _Casses reveranusquam_."

"What?" Severus' head shot up; he'd never heard of the spell.

"Potter's a halfblood," Draco spat, some of his usual arrogance returning to him. "All the old Malfoy manors are protected by _Casses reveranusquam_.Surely the Black estates are as well. _I_ am of Black descent after all. And being pureblood, I am the most suitable choice for an owner."

"The house is picking you?" Severus asked, disgusted with himself for not knowing about the ward.

"In a sense," Draco shrugged.

"And where is Harry?" Severus asked, hoping for the life of him, that his voice didn't let slip his desperation.

Again, Draco shrugged.

xxxxx

Harry didn't know how long he'd stayed in the closet, but it seemed like a very long time. Added to that, was the fact he couldn't hear anything coming from the playroom. He wasn't even sure he'd heard Sirius leave in the first place. His thoughts were preoccupied with the audacity of being duped by an eight-year-old that he didn't even think about the painting, the chocolate frogs or any other odd thing that had happened.

"Sirius," he whispered intently— he still didn't want to bring Mrs. Black's attention to him, if that was a risk.

There was no reply, not even giggling. Harry couldn't just sit and wait, every instinct told him to get up. He'd been sorted into Gryffindor after all, so why was he cowering in the closet?

Gingerly, he rose to his feet and reached for the doorknob. It turned easily, but when he pushed, the door didn't budge.

"Sirius," he said louder, "are you holding the door shut?"

Still, there was no reply.

He pushed harder on the door, trying to be quiet at first. Soon he gave up and lunged forward, pushing the door with his whole body. All the while, he shouted for Sirius.

There was never a reply.

Harry stepped back from the door and closed his eyes. For the first time since entering the closet, he took a moment to think. Suddenly, he remembered all the odd things that had happened, stretching back to passing out in the bathroom. With a sickening feeling in his stomach, he realized that it was likely that Sirius wasn't real— that this wasn't the past. That this place—whatever it was—couldn't possibly be a reality. It had to be some sick dream…

Tears slipped down his face. His first thought was to grieve again for Sirius. He had wanted the boy to be alive; with all of his being he wished that there were some way to save Sirius. And then the grief gave way to fear. The panic nearly overwhelmed him. But, just as quickly as it came, he shut it off.

He needed to get back to the bathroom. There had to be a way out. There had to be.

With that decided, Harry opened his eyes, and reached again for the closet door. He was confused, when, what he thought had been the door, was nothing more than a smooth wall. Reaching out to the walls on either side of him, Harry felt for the telltale signs of the door's wood paneling. Harry swallowed; _I must have turned around. Yes, the doors behind me_. Turning around, Harry tentatively reached out to the last wall. It was smooth.

Harry screamed.

xxxxx

Severus had pumped Draco for every last ounce of information the boy knew about _Casses reveranusquam_. To his consternation, it hadn't been much. Dumbledore was proving to be just about as ignorant and Minerva had left for Hogwarts, to investigate. One thing was clear, though; the manor itself had taken Harry, _somewhere_. Each moment Harry was gone, the stronger the house's hold became. Which meant the chances Harry would come back grew slim… not to mention the risk to the boy's sanity.

Dumbledore and the other's wanted to sit around and research, and to discuss, and to do _nothing_ whilst the boy suffered. Severus flung the blankets back from the Harry's bed, ready to check the sheets for any odd magic. He didn't have _time_ to think. Severus checked the pillows. The room was completely torn apart. At the back of Severus' mind, he felt a gnawing panic, wishing that he hadn't banished the drapes. _If Harry had been…_ But then the idea that Harry was trapped in _drapes_ was just about laughable.

Severus stepped back from the bed and took a deep breath. He was being an idiot he realized… _no worse, a Gryffindor_. He quickly scanned the room again, looking for an object that seemed somewhat likely to hold a victim, somewhere… even symbolically.

As he looked across the room, he caught sight of Draco peering into the mirror and momentarily had the instinct to roll his eyes. He'd dragged the boy along, hoping the spoiled brat might be off some help, not so that Draco could fix his hair. Draco gasped, and then leaned closer.

Severus did roll his eyes. "Draco," Severus growled, "now is not the time to worry over your vanity."

Draco blushed, but didn't look away from the mirror. "I thought I saw something," Draco said, his voice holding some seriousness and a lot of embarrassment.

"What did you see?" Severus asked, stepping closer to the bathroom. He'd checked the mirror before, of course, but it couldn't hurt to check it again.

"Well," Draco explained, "it sort of glimmered funny."

"_Glimmered funny_," Severus repeated, somewhat mockingly.

"Yeah," Draco's blush deepened as he looked away from the mirror. His voice grew quieter as he shrugged, "it seemed to wink at me." Draco's body involuntarily shuddered and Severus decided, as odd as Draco's statement was, he'd have to take the boy seriously.

Severus looked at the mirror. Once again, he tried a series of scanning spells, checking for any excess amount of magic placed into the object. As before, there was an unbreakable spell to protect the mirror and simple opinion spell to ensure the mirror could comment on appearances.

Severus narrowed his eyes. "How do I look?" he asked it.

The mirror didn't respond.

Beside him, Draco squirmed, "Erm—" 

"I asked the mirror," Severus growled.

Draco relaxed. Suddenly, he started and his body became stiff. "It hasn't replied," he said, staring at the mirror intently.

"No, it hasn't," Severus reached out towards the mirror.

"I found it!" Minerva shouted. Both Draco and Severus jumped at the unexpected interruption. Minerva ignored them and started to read from her book. "_Casses reveranusquam_ confines the unworthy owner into an alternate reality— an _unreality_, created by the manor's personality itself. Once the victim accepts the unreality, he or she becomes a part of that unreality and can never be distinguished. However, before that time, the victim may be removed from the unreality by a simple summoning charm, that is if the gateway between reality and unreality can be found." Minerva stopped reading as she thumbed through a few pages. "It suggests a number of likely objects," she explained.

"I believe I know," Severus said, pointing his wand towards the mirror. "Did the book suggest a type of summoning charm?" _Accio_ would be the simplest, but it was never a good idea to use that on a live creature.

"I suggest _Revinio_," said Albus as he looked over Minerva's shoulder.

Severus nodded. He hadn't seen Albus enter the room, nor the Weasleys or the wolf, but that didn't matter. He could get Harry back. The spell was a good choice, usually used to call an errant child back to home. It carried the sender's voice over a long distance directly to the intended individual. Children would be told to come, aided by a mild compulsion they could hardly resist. It was a perfect summing charm.

"_Revinio citatus a Harry Potter_," Severus intoned.

xxxxx

The world around Harry had simply dropped away.

_Or is that just me?_ Harry thought, as his body came crashing to the floor.

Harry had been leaning his back into what should be the door to the closet, even though there was no light _what so ever_ to indicate it was. His feet had been pushing up against the opposite wall in order to give him better leverage. Even though he'd stopped screaming shortly after his initial burst, he'd gone wild like a trapped animal.

His fist, feet, back and arms _hurt_, after all the flailing he'd done in attempts to escape. That compounded with the pain he'd earned when he fell from the table, and the constant strain he'd felt since eating the chocolate frogs, _and_ the headache that seemed to start it all. Now, he could add a sorely pained butt and a knot on the back of his head.

After momentarily giving into the pain, wanting nothing more than to lay back and relax until someone bloody well rescued him, Harry sat up and surveyed the room. He sat, halfway in, halfway out of the small closet. The room, though, looked nothing like the playroom he'd discovered Sirius in. Now it was just like any other nondescript guestroom at Grimmauld Place.

Crawling back to his feet, Harry suddenly remembered what had just happened. There had been a loud thump, or bang, or clang, _or something _and Harry felt as though Snape had called him. It was odd. Harry wasn't sure, because he hadn't exactly heard the man, per say, but he was convinced beyond a doubt that Snape had indeed called him, and that he needed to get his butt moving to his bathroom. Now.

Snapped into action, Harry quickly walked across the room and opened the door to the hall. He didn't pause to consider any possible obstacle, because he'd realized that whatever apparitions appeared, they were just distractions. Besides, nothing had really hurt him; it had always been Harry hurting himself in his rash reactions.

_Except for the potion,_ Harry thought. His whole body still felt stiff and sore.

As doubt crept into his mind, Harry looked up and noticed a creature creeping across the wall. _Wonderful._ The creature appeared to be some sort of lizard, _a very large lizard_, its body being a little larger than that of a cat. The long tail more than doubled its body length, ending with a collection of spikes, long enough to impale Harry's chest.

The lizard-like thing stopped a few feet down the hall and took a moment to snap it's impressive jaws. Then, slowly, menacingly, it flexed one of its long-clawed paws, while the tail behind it began to flick back and forth.

Harry cocked his head to the side. _If Sirius wasn't real, than neither was this lizard, creature, thing. _Ignoring the scary beast, Harry continued down the hall.

It didn't take long for Harry to realize how wrong he was. Apparition beast or not, its claws sunk deep into his chest and cut him clear to his cheek in one upward swipe of the lizard's paw. The pain was so sharp and intense, it brought Harry to his knees. The boy was in too much of a shock to think or panic. In a stupor, Harry brought a hand up to his cheek, touched the cut and then pulled back his hand to stare at the blood. Therefore, he did not react quickly enough as the beast leapt off the wall and onto his back. The force pushed Harry to the ground as the creature's teeth bit into his shoulder.

Harry screamed. White-hot pain shot from his shoulder and engulfed his body. His stomach lurched, causing it to reject its meager contents. The jaws released their pressure, giving Harry a momentary respite. With a sickening realization, Harry recognized the animal's body tense as if preparing to bite again.

Not wanting to be chewed alive— _or eaten,_ Harry shuddered— he reached over his shoulder and grabbed hold of one of the creature's legs. Pulling as hard as possible, he yanked the beast off his shoulder, although it didn't go without cutting more gashes into Harry's back. He was then forced to drop it when it bit his hand. Reacting quickly, Harry lifted his foot and brought it down on the lizard's shoulders. He'd been aiming for its head, but a squeak of pain and an oh-so-satisfying crack assured Harry some damage was been done.

Quickly, Harry stepped over the lizard, intent on sprinting to his bedroom. Before he could get too far, one of the lizard's tail spikes impaled him through the calf muscle. Again, Harry screamed, as he stumbled to the floor. The spike easily broke free from the creature's tail and remained in the boy's leg as he struggled to his feet.

Moving as fast as he could, Harry limped down the hall. He knew the creature was following behind him, but it must have been injured enough so that it couldn't catch him. Harry reached his bedroom door, opened it and collapsed into the room. Not wasting a second, he used his good leg to slam the door shut and to hold it closed. Moments later, he heard scratching and snarling as it tried to get in, but he felt safe in the knowledge it couldn't get to him.

"Snape!" Harry yelled, still hoping that there was some chance that the man was in his bathroom. His heart sank when he heard no reply. "Snape!" he called again as tears started to run down his cheeks. Filled with pain and confusion, it was getting harder and harder for Harry to think. He didn't know what was real or understand what was going on. Sirius and Regulus may have been distracting apparitions, but that lizard-creature was real enough. Perhaps Snape's call, that he thought he'd heard, was just another false lure. Hadn't Sirius told him not to return to the bathroom? Harry shook his head; he was just so confused.

Crawling backwards, Harry gingerly leaned against his bed, trying to avoid both the bite and the scratches on his back. Clenching his teeth, he stifled a scream as he removed the spike from his leg. Blood pored from the wound and Harry knew he'd need some medical attention soon. In the meantime, he decided to look for something that could serve as a bandage.

For the first time, Harry noticed the room. His breath caught as he felt himself spiraling down into a world of panic. Trying to swallow, his throat felt dry and sore. Pulling himself to his feet, Harry tried to assure himself, that he had been rescued. That he wasn't still trapped in Voldemort's manor.

The scratching at the door stopped and after a moment of silence, footsteps could be heard. They were coming down the hall, towards the door. Harry pulled himself to his feet, hoping that he was wrong, but the _potion…_

Harry limped over to the windows, covered with heavy drapes. He would look outside and see the sun. As odd as this place was, it was still Grimmauld Place… a warped version of the manor, but Grimmauld Place nonetheless.

The steps in the hall had reached the door at the same time Harry reached the windows. Pulling the drapes aside, he looked out into nothingness.

"No," he breathed. He didn't want to believe it. But it seemed more and more true. Lucius Malfoy had forced a potion on him once. Harry shuddered, as his knees gave out from under him. He'd been forced into a dreary dream-like state imagining beasts and pain and all sorts of torture. That was the day Harry had broken, the day he'd begged them to stop… begged them for mercy.

Harry felt the pain of his body as realization started to sink in. His cheeks were streaked with tears as he pulled his feet close to his body. He heard the locking charms on the door break.

"SNAPE," Harry yelled. He didn't want to believe it had all been a farce. That he'd never been rescued at all… His mind worked quickly, all sorts of scenarios passed through his thoughts. But they all led back to the same conclusion. Lucius had tricked him, had fed him another potion so that he'd believe he'd been freed. All so that he could break again.

Harry knew that was real. He knew that was the truth. And he wanted nothing more than to die.

xxxxx

"Did you hear that?" Severus barked. He was surprised that no one else reacted. Harry had just called out for him, plain as day.

"Severus, my boy," Albus said soothingly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We should contact the ministry, an Unspeakable may be able to help."

Severus shrugged the man's hand off his shoulder. He knew what the Headmaster was doing. The old man was giving up. There was no way Albus would contact the ministry unless he was desperate. But so far the summoning hadn't worked and none of them had experience with this type of magic.

"Get out," Severus snapped. Draco, the wolf, and the Weasleys all scrambled to obey. Under normal circumstances, Severus would be pleased with the result.

"Severus," Albus warned, not with anger in his voice, but concern. Right after Severus had said the summoning charm, the mirror had changed. It still reflected the bathroom, but none of its occupants. Severus was sure that it led to where Harry was and he was sure that Albus didn't want him to go there.

Severus spared a moment to look Albus in the eye. "Go contact the ministry," he said. "But please, let me go." He knew that Albus was glancing at his mind; he didn't care. He _had_ to go into the mirror and find his son. Yes, Harry was his son now, even if the ministry hadn't officially confirmed it. And he simply couldn't let the boy go. Besides, even with the risk that Severus might not return either, Harry's life was just more important.

Albus nodded, his eyes filled with regret. "All right, my boy," he said softly, backing out of the room. "Bring him back to us."

" Albus, no, you—" Minerva protested as she was pulled out of the room.

Before Albus shut the door, Severus could see the pain in the old man's eyes. Albus didn't want to lose Harry, Severus could see, but his heart was warmed when he realized the headmaster was just as concerned about losing him as well.

Severus looked back towards the mirror and held up his wand. "Albus wait!" he shouted. He heard the door open a crack, but didn't turn to meet the man. "After two minutes, summon me back," he said. And then without further ado, Severus reached out and touched the mirror with his wand. Instinctively, he willed himself into the alternate world and felt himself pass.

The only indication Severus had that he was somewhere was the incredible stench that filled the air. He felt as if he were hugging ten dead Sirius Blacks and shuddered. He was sure that a full minute had probably passed, before he had the strength to will his feet to move. He went quickly to the door and threw it open.

Beyond relieved, he spotted Harry curled up near the window drapes. "Harry," he called, but the boy didn't look up at him. He ran to the boy's side and quickly assessed the boy's body. It was littered with bruises. Cuts on his chest and back looked deep, and his leg was bleeding profusely. "Harry," he said again. Touching the boy's uninjured cheek; he gently nudged the face to look at him. Harry's blank, broken eyes startled him. "Harry," he repeated a third time. Harry blinked, and then a spark brightened the emerald green, and Severus was once again impressed by the boy's resilience.

Severus lifted his wand, ready to _accio_ a potion from his private stores. So caught up in the need to heal the boy immediately, he didn't pause to think about where he really was. Before he could say the spell, he was interrupted.

"Severus, come," he heard the Headmaster call. And all at once, Severus remembered the mirror and the pressing need to get the hell out of wherever he was. In one swift motion, he scooped the boy up and ran into the bathroom. Reaching his wand out to the mirror, he willed himself to return. He blinked and then the oppressing smell was gone.

Quickly, Severus laid the boy on the ground. It was best not to jostle the boy too much, especially since he didn't know the extent of Harry's injuries. Lifting his wand, Severus said, "_Accio_ medical pouch."

Albus beamed down at him, "Well done, Severus, well done."

"I'm going to stabilize Harry as best I can," Severus said, "and then we are going to get the hell out of this house!"

xxxxx

Author's note: So I've finally updated. I'm sorry that it's taken so long, but I've really been busy. And there's just so much I could point out and whine about. But here it is: a new chapter! I'm going to work on A Potions Accident next and try to get back into my regular pattern of updating a lot more frequently. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and I would love to hear some feedback. Oh and the two spell that I came up with are random words I looked up in Latin and strung together… so no laughing at me.


	26. Settling in to Hogwarts

Chapter 26

Settling Back Into Hogwarts

xxxxx

Severus Snape sat and watched as Harry's chest rose and fell with gentle, untroubled breaths. There was nothing Severus could do, but wait. When he'd left Grimmauld Place, Harry's condition was as grave as ever; it had been a risk to move him. But the stabilizing potions were having no affect, and he was growing desperate. When he'd arrived at Hogwarts, he'd given the boy two more potions, the strongest healing potions he had. And it had all been a mistake.

Severus' cheeks tinged red. At least, in the darkness of the hospital wing, there was no one to see it. Quietly, Severus reached out and grasped Harry's nearest hand.

When Madame Pomfrey had come to work on Harry, she'd scolded the Potions Master for his rash decisions. Severus was almost sent from the wing, unable to stand by and watch Harry bleed and bleed as the matron did a full gamit of examination scans. Severus had thought the injuries were rather obvious, and if the boy didn't respond to potions, then perhaps they should try muggle methods. But then Madame Pomfrey had laughed, actually _laughed_.

"He's not injured at all," she had the audacity to say. Severus, Minerva, Albus, Lupin, and the Weasleys had all stared at her as if the woman had finally gone mad. And Severus had almost pushed her out of the way in order to take his son to St. Mungos. But then she'd continued her explanation, "They're illusions, not real injuries. I'm sure the illusion includes enough pain to make them seem as though they hurt, for Harry to believe they're real. But look." They had all watched as the matron reached down and touched Harry's bleeding leg. The sight had been morbid enough to cause both Lupin and Mrs. Weasley to look away, but when Pomfrey had shown them her hand, it had carried no blood.

Feeling frustrated, and still concerned about the fact his son was in pain regardless, Severus had barked out, "How do you heal these nonexistent injuries?"

"Oh, well," the matron had blushed, as if she realized her fascination had nearly distracted her from the task at hand. The woman had stood with her wand raised over Harry's bed, and then finally she had said, "_Finite_." Nothing had happened; Harry's figure remained injured as ever. But Madame Pomfrey was not one to be deterred. "_Finite_," she had said, that time pointing her wand at a specific injury. As she had said, the wound was an illusion, and it had vanished.

So after a few well-placed _Finite_s,Harry's body had been returned to the same basic health he'd had before the mirror incident. This meant that all the potions Severus had shoved down the boy's throat were unnecessary.

Severus' blush deepened.

The overdose of unnecessary potions wouldn't have any lasting adverse affects on Harry. Healing potions had never been that dangerous. The only result was that Harry was in a deep sleep and would remain so for at least 24 hours. And then, when the boy did return to consciousness... he was likely to be in a potion-induced stupor, slipping in and out of consciousness for several days.

Severus sighed.

The potion-induced stupor would not help Harry's state of mind, which had been clearly unstable from his time trapped in unreality. Not to mention the fact that Harry's nerves were fragile since being rescued from the Dark Lord's lair.

The boy had spent four days in captivity, no doubt tortured most of the time. And as yet, Severus hadn't gotten Harry to talk about it. Not that he'd tried much, a fault Severus scolded himself for. He wished he'd been more conscious during Harry's initial healing; surely the boy would have been most open at that point to talk. Had Lupin spoken to the boy? _This time around_, Severus vowed, _I will remain by Harry's side_.

xxxxx

"Severus."

The man started. Feeling a bit disoriented, Severus sat up and looked around the darkened medical ward. "Yes, Albus," he scowled. He hated being found in such an undignified state. Hopefully Madame Pomfrey hadn't entered to see him asleep, slumped over the boy like an over-protective mother.

"Severus," Albus began again, "this arrived for you." The headmaster handed over a thick role of parchments.

"In the middle of the night?" Severus asked. "What time is it?"

"A little after one," Albus replied.

Without thinking, Severus began to wipe the sleep from his eyes. Suddenly aware of the headmaster's gaze, he pulled his hands away from his face and scowled. With as much distaste as he could muster, Severus grabbed the scrolls from the old man's hand. "And what could be as important as—"

"It's from the department of child welfare."

Severus took a deep breath. Holding the parchments more carefully, he stared down at them with a small amount of trepidation. Either they would contain adoption papers, or rejection letters. He thought from the scrolls somewhat heavy feel that there had to be more to them than mere letters. But the ministry did like to waste parchment…

"Would you like some help, Severus?"

Remembering to scowl yet again, Severus began to lift the heavy seal. Reading the top document, he felt all worry slip away. "I've got custody," he said aloud. "They've given me custody of Harry." He didn't notice the way his scowl melted away, or how the corners of his mouth had actually started to turn up. And he definitely missed the twinkling eyes of the headmaster as Albus discretely stepped out of the room.

Thumbing quickly past the documents over Harry's inheritance from both the Black and Potter families, Severus quickly found a certificate for Draco as well. Even though he was fairly certain he'd have no problem gaining custody of Draco, he'd still worried. Bellatrix Lestrange had actually filed for custody herself, using some archaic law for justification. He didn't think that a known crazy woman and escaped convict would hold more credibility than he himself, but the ministry had done stupid things before.

Delicately rolling the parchment back up, Severus secured them with a spell. "Harry," he spoke quietly, "its official. I've got custody of you." Under normal circumstances, Severus would scoff at himself; he wasn't one to be so sentimental. But at the moment, he didn't care.

xxxxx

"Poppy," Severus called, a bit of fear finding its way into his voice. Harry had been tossing and turning in what looked like a dream. But when Severus tried to wake the boy, Harry had started to— to groan… At least, that was the best word Severus could think of to describe the sound. The boy was definitely terrified, and in pain. Severus wanted to find a way to make it stop. "Poppy!" Severus shouted again. In a more gentle voice, he said, "Harry? Harry, wake up."

"NO!" Harry said back, his eyes opening so suddenly that Severus jerked back. "S-stay away," the boy slurred. Even though Harry's eyes were open wide, Severus was sure he wasn't fully awake.

"Harry," Severus said calmly, "it's me."

Harry reacted quickly, rolling away from Severus and onto his hands and knees in once quick motion. Severus reached forward to stabilize the boy, but Harry continued to scramble away and fell off the bed. Quickly, Severus rounded the bed, hoping that the idiot boy hadn't injured himself. Harry was busy backing under the bed, a wild panicked look to him.

Unsure what to do to comfort the boy, Severus crouched low, and hoped the solution would come to him. Reaching his hand out, Severus opened his mouth, but was unprepared for an armed Harry.

A flying bedpan hit him squarely in the nose. Even drugged up and groggy, the boy had a strong arm. Applying pressure to his now bleeding nose, Severus watched as Harry's face changed from panic to recognition and then slip away into unconsciousness. The boy's head slumped against the bedside table and the rest of his limbs became a limp tangle under the medical bed.

"What happened?" Poppy asked with concern, as she stepped into the hospital ward much too late.

"Harry gained consciousness for a moment," Severus said, his pronunciation suffering because of his plugged nose.

"Oh dear," said Poppy, once she got good sight of Severus. "Let me see that."

"Tend to Harry first," he said. "In his panic, he fell off the bed."

Madame Pomfrey quickly levitated Harry back into bed. After a couple of charms, she said, "Harry is in good condition, only a small bump on the knees." Before Severus could open his mouth, she continued, "I've healed him up already. Now sit down so I can tend to your nose." Severus tried to protest, but Poppy's voice grew more firm. "Now," she commanded, pointing to the chair near Harry's bed, "or else, I may see fit to confine you to bed. You do need more rest yourself. You haven't properly healed from your own injuries."

Severus ignored the rest of Poppy's rant, trying the best he could to nod his head at seemingly appropriate moments. He decided to move Harry down to his own quarters as soon as he possibly could. The boy would likely wake up panicked more than once. Harry's mind was probably a jumbled mess, after days of torture and the events at Grimmauld Place. An overdose of healing potions was just an added bonus… Severus cringed.

xxxxx

Unsure of the time, Severus crept quietly down the abandoned halls of the castle. After healing his nose, Madame Pomfrey had gone back to bed. She'd given strict orders for Severus to 'take it easy' and 'call if Harry stirs'. Severus nodded politely, thanked the matron and then waited approximately 35 minutes until making his escape.

Harry's light body was easy to carry. _He is far too skinny_, Severus thought, _and as soon a__s Harry is lucid again, the boy will be eating_. Severus knew several different nutritive potions that would work to fatten Harry up. _And the boy needs proper clothing too_, Severus noticed, _and a new pair of trainers._

_Harry will not be using his inheritanc__e,_ Severus continued to contemplate, _whether he likes it or not, I will be providing for his basic needs until he comes of age. The boy can have an allowance_, Severus nodded to himself, _for a sense of independence and to teach the boy how to budget his mon__ey._

Inwardly, Severus cringed. _I will be treating Draco the same way_. Draco wouldn't take to his ideals very easily_. In fact_, he worried, _Draco may not ever forgive me_. Draco was part of the reason he wanted to return to his quarters. He knew the boy had been moved from Grimmauld Place and set up in a new room in his private quarters. Hopefully, Draco continued to lock himself away, rather than wander about creating trouble… but with Draco, he could never be so sure.

Severus still needed to address the issue that occurred in Grimmauld Place… how he'd forcibly _legilimized_ the boy. He needed to apologize, or somehow patch up the situation. But right now, he was busy dealing with Harry. He didn't want to risk leaving the boy's side.

He groaned aloud this time, _how will I ever properly care for these two boys?_

xxxxx

Severus tucked Harry into bed and went directly down the hall to check on Draco. The third room had added nicely to his quarters, making the long hall to his bedroom seem to make more sense. Opening the door a crack, Severus was pleased to find a snoring blond. The sleeping teen looked a lot more innocent and young than his waking self.

Extra security measures would need to be taken to ensure that both Draco and Harry would be safe returning to classes. Not that Harry had ever been particularly safe, but with one successful abduction, the Dark Lord would no doubt be ordering his prospective Death Eaters to attack Harry and Draco again.

Draco was also a threat all by himself. Regardless of Lucius' betrayal of the Dark Lord, Draco's loyalties and ideals had not changed. Depending on how the boy reacted—once he got past his melancholy—he could take his revenge on either Harry or Severus.

Besides wanting revenge, Draco never really had a proper chance to grieve. The boy had plenty of time to sit around and mope… but Draco didn't have anyone to confide in. And he was certainly not able to attend the memorial service.

Not that the service was really much to see, so Severus had been informed. It had been organized by Death Eaters—probably in hopes of luring Draco to them for the Dark Lord's purposes—and attended by various corrupt ministry officials. Anyone who might have cared about the Malfoys' fate now considered them traitors.

Draco wouldn't be received well by his housemates, either. His father's betrayal would affect his own reputation. And that's what made Severus afraid for his godson… the boy would no doubt try to link up with his old friends…

Severus shook his head. There was no point in worrying about what might or might not come. He levitated the comforter to cover Draco's shoulders more snuggly and then backed out of the room.

xxxxx

Harry had slept through the rest of the night without so much as stirring. Therefore, around five in the morning, Severus decided to leave the boy's side (after placing several monitoring charms on him) and take a shower. By the time Draco got up for breakfast, Severus was showered and dressed with only a hint of fatigue showing.

"I am eating in the Great Hall," Draco announced, holding his nose up into the air.

"No, you're not," Severus growled back. Draco opened his mouth to protest, but Severus cut him off. "Sit down," he commanded.

Draco, full of teenaged theatrics, flopped down into his chair. There he glared across the room, but made no move to eat.

If looks could kill, Draco might have been able to take out a first year Hufflepuff; as it was, Severus merely ignored him. "I will allow you to attend classes," Severus said, "but you must understand the danger you are in." Draco rolled his eyes, but otherwise kept his mouth shut. "Pay attention to what's happening around you. Always have your wand handy—"

"Severus, I'm hardly a child," Draco said in a haughty tone.

"You may attend lunch in the Great Hall," Severus continued firmly. "After your last class of the day, you are to return to my quarters. Or," Severus raised his voice, in order to cut off Draco's retort, "or, under special circumstances you may go to the library. But you will return here for the night."

"That's completely unreasonable!" Draco shouted.

"It's for your own safety," Severus said calmly.

"_Safety?_" Draco mocked. "What you're going to do, lock me away? Trying to turn me into a blood traitor as well, is that it?"

"Draco," Severus' voice grew cold as ice, "the Dark Lord already considers you as thus. Mark my words; you are not safe from his vengeance." Severus watched as the boy's face grew deathly pale. He didn't want to sound cruel, but he couldn't sugarcoat reality, Draco needed to know the danger he was in.

"This is your fault you know," Draco's said quietly, his voice more like a whine than anything.

"I know," Severus replied.

"I hate you."

"I know, now eat your breakfast."

xxxxx

Severus had nearly broached the subject of the _legilimency_ incident, when his monitoring wards alerted him to Harry's altered status. He excused himself from the table and waved his hand to acknowledge Draco's request to go to class.

Opening Harry's door, Severus quickly made it to the boy's bed. Harry was stirring, most likely in the throes of a nightmare.

"No," Harry pleaded. "No more."

Severus' heart dropped. _So he's dreaming of his captivity_, he thought. Severus had no idea how to deal with this type of situation. Not wanting a repeat of the night before, Severus sat on the edge of the bed, and leaned over the boy. Resting his weight gently against the boy's upper torso, he rested his hand against the boy's face. "Harry," he called gently.

At first, Severus thought he was calming the boy. Harry's stirring body seemed to relax against the added weight. But when the boy's eyes opened, his struggle became wild. Severus held tightly. Harry screamed and landed one good punch to Severus' shoulder.

"Harry, it's me, it's Severus," the man said firmly, holding Harry's face so that the boy was forced to look up at him. Slowly, Harry's eyes made contact with Severus and as soon as the boy recognized him, his struggles stopped.

"Snape?" Harry asked, sounding confused.

Severus nodded. _Now what to say?_ he thought.

Harry gasped. "Oh god, Snape. We have to get out of here." Harry gaze darted around the room as he struggled to sit up. "They'll come back," Harry cried, "they'll come back—"

"Harry," Severus reassured, "you're at Hogwarts now. We escaped, remember?" Severus was still leaning over the boy, effectively keeping him in place so that Harry couldn't get up and injure himself.

Harry didn't seem to notice his position, his mind still a jumbled mess. "Did the house elf bring breakfast?" Harry cried. Real tears were streaming down the boy's face.

"Are you hungry?" Severus asked, feeling confused. He hated to see Harry in this state; the boy would be horrified later.

"They always come," Harry was shivering now, pulling in his arms and legs as best he could. "After breakfast, M-malfoy and Bella—" Harry's body jolted. "Don't let them get me, please, Snape," Harry pleaded. "Please, no more."

"Harry, you're safe now," Severus comforted. Adjusting his position, Severus sat up and leaned against the headboard. Gently, he pulled Harry closer. He was sure both he and the boy would be embarrassed later, but at the moment none of that mattered. Harry came easily, leaning his back against the man and clung to Severus' arm. Harry continued to stare towards the door, as if expecting his torturers to come. Meanwhile, Severus continued to repeat, "You're safe, you're at Hogwarts, I've got you," and other assurances.

xxxxx

It had taken about fifteen minutes for the boy to calm and fall asleep. And then an hour passed. Severus didn't want to wake the boy, knowing sleep would be the best way for Harry to pass the next several days. But, Severus realized as his arm grew numb, he wouldn't be able to sit here for much longer, let alone several days.

Moving as slowly as possible, Severus tried to pull his arm out from Harry's grip. The boy stirred and then clung tighter. Severus froze. He sat there in a rigid position until he heard Harry's heavy breathing resume. Then he cursed Merlin and slowly settled back against the headboard. He could wait a while longer.

Severus felt odd when he suddenly remembered that Harry was his son. It made it a little easier to excuse his coddling behavior, because this was what fathers did, wasn't it? Severus brushed the fringe out of Harry's eye. There was a lot he was going to do for his newly adopted son—for one the boy needed a whole new wardrobe. Harry would be raised properly, at least for his last year being under-aged.

_But what would happen when the boy turned seventeen?_ Severus wondered. _Would Harry leave and start his own life? Or will I still be a part of it? _Severus shook his head; he was the boy's guardian. He was being ridiculously sentimental. He would take care of Harry, but he wouldn't expect anything in return. Surely Harry didn't see him as anything more than a guardian…

Regardless, Severus would give Harry guidance and protection for as long as the boy needed it. If Harry decided to cut off relations when he turned seventeen, then he could make his own decisions.

Severus adjusted Harry's weight so his arm was more comfortable. Right now, he'd hold onto the boy, so that Harry could feel safe and sleep well.

xxxxx

After a couple of hours passed, Severus' sense of needing to get work done nearly had him getting up. But at the same time, he heard the Floo ring and then Madame Pomfrey's voice calling for permission to enter. Instead, Severus _acciod_ a book and started to 'research;' he would deal with Pomfrey's scolding later.

Severus was so deeply engrossed in the second chapter that he didn't realize Harry was awake until he noticed the boy studying his own hands. Quietly, Severus put his book aside and watched as Harry continued to open and close his hands.

"Do they hurt?" Severus asked finally. When Harry didn't respond, Severus reached out and pulled the boy's right hand closer in order to inspect it. Severus had just about enough time to discover that Harry's hand wasn't injured before the boy pulled it away.

Still leaning his back against Severus, Harry pulled his hands close to his body in a protective manner. "Did you know," Harry said quietly, his voice raspy, "that they have a curse to cut off fingers?"

Severus held his breath, hoping that the question was rhetorical. He was proficient in many torture curses, not that he wanted Harry to know.

"Malfoy liked to do that," Harry continued, his voice hollow. "He liked to take his time." Harry shuddered and then pulled his legs closer to his body.

Severus didn't know what to say. Somehow, admitting that he knew Lucius' torture techniques didn't seem like a good way to comfort the boy. Instead, Severus said nothing, but wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulder.

Harry leaned his head back and sat in silence. Within fifteen minutes, he was asleep again. Severus picked up his book and continued to read.

xxxxx

Severus finally managed to free his arms from Harry's clutches before Albus resorted to breaking his way through the Floo. He made it to his sitting room just in time to dismantle his wards.

"Severus, my dear boy," Albus said cordially, not fazed at all by the man's scowl. "How are you?"

"Harry is recovering just as well in my quarters as he would in the Hospital Wing," Severus said. "And you can tell Madame Pomfrey that I'm perfectly capable of—"

Albus held up his hand, "I am not here on that account."

"Then why are you here? Surely not to check up on me, I hardly need a minder."

"You and Harry disappeared from the infirmary hours ago and have since been out of contact," Albus explained. "Considering what has occurred recently, I wouldn't expect you to hide away without a word to anyone."

Severus' scowl melted as he was forced to look away. Feeling uncomfortably like a chastised schoolboy, he didn't know what to say. After a moment, he managed to pull together a half-hearted sneer. Without looking up, he said, "As you can see, I am fine. The boy is fine. You can return to whatever it is that you need to do today."

"How about a cup of tea?" Albus suggested, taking a seat nearest the fire.

Severus opened his mouth to protest, but instead went to prepare the tea. He decided to do things the muggle way, making sure to take his time.

"I have received documentation from the ministry about the change of custody for both Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. I saw that everything worked out in your favor."

"Indeed," Severus replied as he levitated a cup to the headmaster.

"I suppose I should congratulate you."

"If you wish," Severus said. Levitating the prepared tea, he walked back to the sitting area.

"Thank you, Severus," Albus said.

Severus tilted his head and sat down at the far end of the couch. At first he wasn't going to serve himself any tea, but quickly his resolve crumbled. After _accioing_ a cup, he filled it to the brim and then leaned back into the cushions. He hadn't realized how tired he was.

"Now tell me, Severus," Albus said gently, "how have you been doing?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. He was hardly going to have a heart-to-heart with the headmaster. Wrapping his hand more firmly around his cup, Severus looked across the room towards the fire.

"Harry's sleeping," Severus said finally, saying anything to fill the silence, "as he will be for the new couple of days."

"It's not your fault," the Headmaster said.

"Oh, don't be a patronizing idiot," Severus scowled. "Of course it's my fault. I overdosed the boy on healing potions and his drugged stupor is a direct result!"

"Madame Pomfrey informed me that it's probably a good result. Harry could use the rest."

"This isn't rest!" Severus snapped. Despite himself, Severus began losing control of his temper. He couldn't help it, _how dare Dumbledore make light of Harry's situation!_ "He's having horrible nightmares. Even when he's awake, he's hardly lucid. After everything he's been through, it's unbelievable that he has to suffer yet more."

"He will recover," Albus piped in.

"Perhaps," Severus sighed. "Physically of course, but—" Biting his lip, Severus glared at his tea. He wasn't going to blab all his worries to the headmaster.

"Harry's a very resilient child."

"He shouldn't have to be," Severus said through clenched teeth.

"I'm going to continue to cover you classes for the rest of the week," Albus continued, "longer if you would like. It's going to be quite an adjustment—for all of you."

"That won't be necessary," Severus said. "I can handle both boys just fine." Taking another sip of tea, he gained more of his composure. "I trust you're taking measures within the castle to ensure the safety of both Harry and Draco."

"Of course, but do you think it wise—"

"I will keep Harry safe. I can't choose one boy over the other and I have to give Draco a chance."

"Severus, I just want you to be careful. Draco—"

Severus quickly put his cup aside. Rising to his feet, he began to lose hold of his temper yet again. "I know Draco. I know what he's capable of. The boy will be given a chance. I will make sure that neither of the boys hurt the other." Severus began to pace. "You haven't even considered the danger Harry is to Draco, have you? Always distrusting the Slytherins first?"

Albus rose to his feet, too. "Severus," he spoke sternly, "you know this is no usual house rivalry." Severus snorted and nearly rolled his eyes, but when Albus caught his eye, the Potions Master quickly schooled his attitude. "You know the danger. Draco might very well be plotting his revenge right now—on Harry or you. I just want you to be careful."

"I know," Severus replied, his voice noticeably quieter. "I will take measures to ensure all of our safety."

xxxxx

After Albus left, Severus went straight to work on setting up wards in his quarters. It was some of the most complicated magic he'd done in a long time. He realized half way through the task that he should have asked for the headmaster's help. Needless to say, he'd never call the old man back. So just before dinner, Severus was ready to collapse into bed and sleep for the next couple of days.

At least he'd be able to sleep. As a result of all his wards, neither of the boys could do any magic whilst in the confines of his private quarters. When he first started to construct his wards, he had first decided to protect against dark arts, destructive spells, and allow some charms that might not be harmful. But in the end, he realized even a _Lumos_ could be harmful, if wielded correctly. So he decided that the boys wouldn't be allowed to do any magic at all.

Harry would likely adjust well to the restriction, but Draco on the other hand… _Draco was going to __need special handling_, Severus realized. Eventually, the boy would end his moping and likely begin seeking revenge. Severus only hoped that the boy wouldn't be so stupid as to go to the Dark Lord or some of his father's closer friends. They weren't going to be friends to Draco any longer and the boy would end up getting himself hurt or killed.

Severus glared at the clock. Draco should have returned to his quarters five minutes ago. The boy had a modicum of safety during the day, being in classes or at meals for the majority of his time. Plus Albus had told Severus that Draco was being tailed by more than one house elf who would call for help if any sort of situation arose. But the boy was not to return to his dormitory—it was just too concentrated with those whose families were sworn to the Dark Lord. And although Severus was loath to admit it, he knew many of his snakes had family sworn to the Dark Lord.Seven minutes late, Severus couldn't wait any longer. "_Locata alt Draco_," Severus enchanted with a flick of his wand. In the air before him, misty red lettering formed. It read, "Slytherin common room." Severus cursed under his breath and left to go retrieve the boy.

After placing a charm over Harry's bed, in case the boy should wake while he was out, Severus left his quarters to make his way to the Slytherin dormitories.

The familiar corridors appeared the same as they had since he was a boy. It was here in the dungeons that he'd always felt the safest. The Marauders never ventured this far into the dungeon, so he'd always been safe from their torments. Often times, he'd wished they had been foolish enough to pursue him here, because Slytherins protected Slytherins in their own territory… But now, with Severus' betrayal and Lucius Malfoy's involvement, the Slytherin domain wouldn't be safe for him any longer.

When he entered the Slytherin common room, he had about thirty seconds to observe the room before it went deathly silent. Draco was sitting in the corner of the room, arms crossed with a cocky look on his face.

_Foolish boy_, Severus thought. Aloud, he said, "Mr. Malfoy come with me." Draco sighed dramatically and then lifted up his nose. "Now," Severus growled. His voice was harsh enough to cause several of the first years to shiver. Draco looked away, almost as though he thought ignoring the man would make him go away. Losing his patience, Severus started across the room, students all but leaping to get out of his way. He made it half way to Draco before the boy finally got to his feet.

Scowling, Draco finally complied. Although he avoided walking near Severus, Draco quickly left the common room. Giving his snakes a farewell glare, Severus turned and followed the boy out.

Neither of them said a word until returning to Severus' quarters. It was there Draco exploded. "I'm not some little child," he yelled. "I can take care of myself!"

"Draco," Severus said, feeling his anger calming down, "I know you'd like to believe that you're safe. But the Dark Lord—"

"I won't be a blood traitor," Draco spat. "You think you can turn me into some sort of mudblood lover?"

"Hush, Draco, you don't know what you're talking about," Severus replied. "Reguardless of your loyalty, the Dark Lord wants nothing more than to see you tortured and killed."

Draco's face grew a little paler as he sat down on the couch. "Thanks to you," Draco said, his voice quiet, but still full of venom.

Severus said nothing, unsure of how to respond.

"For how long?" Draco asked, "How long were you betraying my father?"

"Draco, I never meant to betray your father, the Dark Lord—"

"He died," Draco's voice cracked as the boy looked away. "He died because of you, you and bloody Potter. It's your fault my parents are dead." Draco's voice grew louder as he continued. "And I won't turn into some bloody muggle-loving fool. Mark my words; I will save my family name. The Dark Lord will let me join him and—"

"Draco!" Severus shouted. "You're being an idiot. Even your father didn't want you to become a Death Eater."

Draco scoffed, "How can you expect me to believe a thing you say?"

"Listen to me, Draco," Severus spoke urgently. "If you pursue this path, you'll only end up getting hurt. I don't expect you to change your beliefs. Just don't be stupid."

"I'm not the one who's being stupid," Draco replied. "And you should be more concerned about your own safety as far as I can see. Your safety and your little pet, Potter."

"Are you attempting to threaten me?" Severus yelled. "Go," he pointed towards the boy's quarters, "go to your room until I call you for dinner."

"Oh no, not my room," Draco mocked, standing slowly to stroll out of the room.

Once the boy was finally in his room, Severus sat down heavily. Whipping his wand out of his robe, he quickly started a fire, _accioed_ headache drought, and cursed Merlin. _What am I going to do with Draco?_ he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Author's note: More to come… eventually.


End file.
